


Being Judith

by Yeah_JSmith



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, F/M, Gaslighting, Gen, Guilt, Impostor Syndrome, Incomplete Tags I'm Sure, Judy Has Good Friends, Platonic Nick and Judy, Police Ain't Saints, Ruth Wilde the Super Mom, This is Real Horror for Halloween, Unhealthy Relationships, aftermath of canon, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 15:37:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 46,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16726170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeah_JSmith/pseuds/Yeah_JSmith
Summary: During Nick's time at the academy, Judy gets courted by a sweet, kind fox.(Some things really are too good to be true.)





	1. By Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a horror story that I wanted to post around Halloween, and then got scared to. I edited the shit out of it and I still don't think I cut enough out. My goal was to get it down to 30K. Clearly, that didn't work.
> 
> This is probably the most personal thing I've ever written. There's a reason I _hate_ the "overprotective, jealous, manipulative-for-the-sake-of-her-safety" trope, and it has a lot to do with the same reason I wrote this story. Because this happens in real life (and in fact, basically everything in this _has_ happened in real life), it's much scarier than any stupid supernatural thing. This isn't a story you want to read if you want fluff. It's probably not a story you want to read at all, but I'm posting it anyway.
> 
> A note: this does not end with Nick and Judy running hand in hand into the sunset. They're platonic in the beginning, the middle, and the end. I'm a shipper, but not today. Also, please, no victim-blaming bullshit. We're all better than that.

She met him on a Wednesday, which was somewhat unusual, because Wednesdays generally weren’t that great. Middle of the week, middle of the road, lackluster. But this Wednesday, Judy Hopps met Jimmy Brownpaw, and — so the story would go — both were immediately smitten.

Judy was somewhat of a blackthumb, so when Wolfard came down with some kind of illness, she didn’t have a nice garden-fresh bouquet to give him in the hospital; she had to do what normal mammals did and get something from the flower shop. Jimmy was there too, getting some daisies for his coworker’s sick wife. They bumped into each other—

Their eyes met—

“You’re her,” he breathed. “The bunny cop.”

She tried not to fidget or look away. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed to be herself, exactly, but she was embarrassed that predators weren’t  _ angrier  _ with her. Hardly anyone even remembered the exact content of Judy’s press conference; it had been one of dozens of police statements, followed by interviews with Dr. Madge Honey who more or less confirmed the biology angle, followed by protests and riots, followed by a political hustle that even Nick had missed back then, apparently, just to get Dawn Bellwether into office at all. What Zootopians remembered Judy for was the shaky phone footage of her bravely shielding a raccoon cub from an angry deer. What Zootopians remembered Judy for was standing between Mayor Bellwether and the city, allowing the fox who’d angrily threatened her on live TV to clamp his jaws around her throat if it meant saving everyone.

It was embarrassing because they were being too generous. She felt wrong-footed, upside-down. She wanted to scream at them, sometimes —  _ you’re not allowed to like me until I like myself again —  _ but she didn’t. She smiled brightly, made sure her ears were extra perky, polished her badge until it shone, and pretended her daily hypocrisy didn’t hurt.

“Only the first of many, I’m sure,” she replied to the fox in front of her. He was handsome. Younger than Nick, and obviously sturdier. He didn’t have the starved, scrappy look that Nick hid under his thick, fluffy fur, and he had none of the residual worry that most predators did about showing their fangs in public. His bright amber eyes were as lively as his tail, and although he was still a red fox, his fur was silver-gray. She stuck her paw out. “Judy Hopps. And you are…?”

“Jimmy Brownpaw. It’s a pleasure,” said Jimmy, taking her paw in his. Instead of shaking it, he curled her fingers around one of his and kissed the back of her wrist. And yes, all right, Judy was a modern bunny with big ideas and grand ambitions, but it was a nice gesture that made her smile. His lips lingered just a tad too long, perhaps, but then he gave her a gentle, sweet grin that made her melt, the angle of his muzzle forcing him to look up at her through his lashes.

That could have been the end of it. They could have bought their flowers and parted, never to speak again. But some hipster with a cPhone caught a photo for her “interspecies romance” blog, and they chased after her, and Judy lectured the kit on privacy, and Jimmy invited her to dinner. And...Judy, whose experience with romance had thus far been limited to a short-term girlfriend in her junior year of high school, an even shorter-term boyfriend in her sophomore year, and a series of boring dates with usually-underwhelming “happy endings” in college, accepted. A date with a nice fox, at a nice middle-of-the-road restaurant in the middle of the week.

Nick would make himself sick with worry. She knew she was his only real friend, and he trusted other foxes at about the same rate and level that he trusted any other species, which was rarely and barely. So she decided not to tell him unless it looked like it would go somewhere. Before she could get to the part where Jimmy was a fox, her parents cheered and pushed for a June wedding. She told  _ them  _ he was a gammy giraffe and changed the subject.

Her wrist tingled for days afterward.

* * *

Jimmy was  _ funny.  _ Not in the way most mammals were funny — joke, punchline, laughter — but there was something inherently amusing about the way he saw the world. It was in the way he’d make fun of stupid things, or in the impressions he did. His rendition of Mayor Lionheart’s prison interview had her in stitches, and for a whole twenty minutes she forgot that her mistakes could have led to this nice fox being forced out of Zootopia — or jailed for his dangerous habit of jaywalking, or even (if conspiracy theorists were to be believed) forced into some weird magical emotions-based shock collar.

On their third date, she caught her reflection in the glass window and nearly spat out her mouthful of coffee. She looked like a different rabbit. She looked happy.

“I’m glad you asked me out,” she confessed, feeling the smile on her face. It was a real smile, too, not one of the strained, borderline manic ones she used to keep her parents from asking questions or coworkers from believing she was too emotionally unreliable to do the job. It was exhausting work, trying to only feel chipper and shaking bad things off like water from a duck’s back, but this was different. “I’ve been...in need of a change of pace.”

He cocked his head, looking at her intently, and for a moment she felt self-conscious. What did he think of her? He liked her enough to have dinner with her more than once, but what did he actually  _ think?  _ Did he want to be friends? Was he looking for something more? He was certainly handsome, but did he find her attractive, or was she just...maybe...was he a fluff chaser with a cute fetish? No, he didn’t seem the type...but even so…

“Can I be honest with you, Judy?”

She nodded warily, trying not to show her misgivings. A little tension went out of his shoulders. “I find you a little intimidating. You’re smart, capable, determined...not to mention, obviously a loyal friend-”

“Not that loyal,” she blurted, and immediately wanted to smack herself.  _ Great going, Hopps. Who doesn’t go wild for a mammal who interrupts just to put herself down? _

His smile, already small, shrank. “No?”

“I don’t have many friends in the first place...and the ones I do have, I haven’t always treated very well,” she admitted, ashamed of her own gracelessness but unwilling to lead anybody on. “I’ve ignored them in favor of my ambitions, or even carelessly said things to hurt them. Nick especially. He was the fox who helped me solve the Night Howler case.”

“Yeah, we all heard you snap at the reporters after they asked about him threatening you on TV. You must be lifelong friends; I know I was scared of other predators when the savage outbreak came to light and nobody knew what was going on. Hell, I was even a little scared of myself, not knowing if I’d be the next one to go savage. But you made sure we all knew he was safe to be around. That looks like loyalty to me.”

She shook her head and laughed a little. “No, we’re not lifelong friends. I’d only known him for a couple of days at that point! That — our fight at the press conference was my fault, not his. He was hurt that I didn’t trust him as much as I should have.”

“How much should you trust someone you just met,” he mused, quirking an eyebrow. Nick did the same thing, but on Jimmy’s face, it looked less smug and more inquisitive.

“Well…” She frowned at her plate, perturbed but not unhappy. “I think we should give everyone the benefit of doubt. I know a little something about being shoehorned and stereotyped; I shouldn’t have been afraid of him when...it wasn’t as bad as it looked, Jimmy. Nick’s actually really sweet, and I didn’t see it.”

“When I saw that press conference, I thought I was going to throw up,” he told her, and her heart sank. She would take whatever he had to throw at her, because she deserved it, but she’d hoped — it had been three weeks already. She wanted him to like her. Surprisingly, his next words were, “It looked like that fox — Nick, you said his name was? — was going savage, but as it turned out, it was worse. A fox threatened a bunny on live TV for what looked like no reason. We have it hard enough; we don’t need that kind of negative press, and there was some douchebag, throwing a temper tantrum in front of dozens of reporters. You probably have an idea of what it’s like to be representative of your species. It’s  _ exhausting,  _ isn’t it? Don’t you get tired of being stereotyped? Of being  _ the only  _ bunny who’s worth something? Aren’t you mortified every time some moron like Matilda Leapyear gives politicians and late-night comedians material to mock your species, knowing it’s unfair but unable to  _ do  _ anything about it? That’s what it was like for us. Our secret shame as foxes is that  _ we  _ invented the flesh market to keep ourselves safe from larger mammals, and he looked just like a picture from one of the banned history textbooks up there.”

_ Foxes are the worst,  _ her parents had said. So had her grandparents. She had assumed that it was more or less baseless, old cultural prejudice against a species widely regarded as shifty and untrustworthy for no reason, but if Jimmy was telling the truth, maybe there  _ was  _ a reason for the weirdly personal anger toward foxes. Of course, it was still baseless  _ now;  _ the practice of breeding and selling bunnies for food or entertainment was thousands of years in the past, and it had been at  _ least  _ 200 years since the zero-tolerance policy had been implemented in Animalia. Bunnies didn’t need to cower on farms, and as a species, they should have known that. The only thing they really had to fear, aside from normal things like natural disasters or getting hit by buses, was being snatched by birds of prey or kits getting eaten by large snakes. It didn’t mean anything, and she didn’t think it  _ should  _ mean anything. If no bunnies ever challenged the status quo, who would show the world that bunnies weren’t dumb, overly-emotional, and probably sex addicts?

“He proved himself,” she said, instead of trying to put all of that into words. It wasn’t firm enough in her mind to vocalize. She still needed to verify the accuracy of Jimmy’s statement; for all she knew, whatever textbook he’d mentioned hadn’t been banned, just pulled for pushing speciesist conspiracy theories. It was what he believed, but it might have just been urban legend, or even a lie told to foxes to make them doubt their own history. She wouldn’t make the mistake of believing someone’s opinion offpaw again, not after what had happened with Dr. Honey and Nick and Dawn Bellwether. “He stood up for me when nobody else would, and — okay, he was kind of a jerk at first, but only because I was a jerk too, and he  _ did  _ help me investigate. I’m being serious. I should have trusted him, and I didn't trust him enough, and I argued instead of just taking it in when he called me out for being a bigot at that press conference.”

“Okay, I’ll believe you,” Jimmy replied, holding both of his paws up in front of his chest. She didn’t think he was really agreeing; he was just conceding; but that was fine. It was good to have disagreements. She and Nick disagreed a lot, and it only served to strengthen their friendship. If Jimmy stuck around, he’d meet Nick eventually, and she was sure he’d see what she saw. Nick was still that Junior Ranger Scout, all grown up now and ready to help make the world a better place.

She smiled at the thought of them meeting. If they got the chance, that would mean Jimmy was a part of her life, and that idea was more and more appealing the more they talked.

“So tell me about work,” he suggested, eyes and smile soft and inviting. Yeah, she wanted him to stick around.

* * *

Judy had her first kiss since Beth (from college stats; she’d been nice, but unsupportive) after her fifth date with Jimmy, and it felt magical. They were sprawled out under the stars on the roof of his apartment building, surrounded by sweet-smelling planters and exchanging cultural myths. The constellation that rabbits called the “Fanged Guardians,” referring to the stories about coyotes allying with bunnies instead of eating them during ancient times, red foxes called the “Three Witches,” referring to a story about three mysterious figures who had protected fox caravans from bandits and brought them luck. They were laughing about the similarities and differences in their cultures, Judy lying flat on her back and Jimmy lazily propped up on one elbow; he looked down at her, intense and appealing, and asked oh so quietly, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” she replied, her own voice just a shade brighter than his. “You may kiss me, Jimmy Brownpaw.”

It was the kind of kiss they wrote ballads about, she was sure. It thrilled her from her toes to the tips of her ears, an excited heat that made her chest and head balloon up. His fangs pricked gently into her lower lip, and the swipe of his tongue over the tiny dents shot searing little darts through her stomach and into her pelvis. She reached out, running her paws up and down his torso, wishing for access to his fur, and as he hovered over her — still propped up by his elbow, with one paw firmly grasping her hip — she memorized the look in his eyes, passionate and hungry and wonderfully adoring.

“Stay the night,” he murmured into her ear, and she shook at the feeling of his lips and teeth against the shell of it.

She wanted to stay the night. Jimmy was fun, and he was kind, and he was both attractive and attracted to her. It had been a long time since she’d hooked up with anybody, but that wasn’t what this felt like; hookups didn’t take five dates, several platonic hangouts, and two months of texting back and forth almost every day. She wanted to stay, so she said yes.

They bumped each other while they stumbled down the stairs, holding paws and stopping every few steps to exchange little pecks. It was new and exciting and she liked him, a lot. Unlike the few unsuccessful dates in college, she didn’t usually think about other mammals or different topics when she was with Jimmy. She could just be with him. She loved it when he texted her just to say he was thinking about her, and she loved his laugh, and she loved that he never said anything negative about her profession, and it was far too soon to say she loved him, but she could maybe see it going that way.

Jimmy’s apartment was nicer than hers in plenty of ways. It had its own bathroom, for one, and a nice little kitchenette. It was still a studio, located in a slightly rundown area of the Meadowlands, but it had a little nook for a bed that was hidden by a curtain that Judy thought might be pale blue, though the apartment was too dim for her to know for sure. He locked the door behind them, kissed her between her ears, and pulled her by the paw over to his bed. It was just a box spring and mattress against a sturdy wooden headboard, which Judy thought was absolutely charming, especially since she didn’t have to climb  _ onto  _ the bed to follow him.

Jimmy dropped onto his back, still holding her paw, and she fell forward onto him, willing and eager for more. His teeth teased her ears, and he placed tiny warm kisses in a line down her cheek and to her mouth while she ran her free paw under his shirt, finally getting a wonderful pawful of his thick, somewhat wiry fur. With her other paw, she let go of Jimmy and headed for the button of his pants. Although he whined into her mouth and bucked his hips slightly, he grabbed her paw again and said breathlessly, “Judy, Judy  _ wait.” _

She backed off, disappointed but unwilling to show it. “Are you okay, Jimmy?”

“More than.” He licked her cheek. Her toes curled. “I’m just — I don’t think — tonight’s not…”

She softened, finding him adorable and confusing in equal measures, and pushed herself up so that she could kneel between his thighs. “We don’t have to have sex tonight. I thought that was what you were implying, but it’s not like I’d make you.”

He pushed himself up with one paw and cupped her cheek with the other, eyes heavy and chest heaving, and she wondered why he didn’t want it, but then he said, “I just want to take my time with you. I don’t want to rush into anything. I...I don’t know when it started, but you’re really important to me, Judy. I’d be open to kissing you more, but I’d rather just hold you and listen to you talk tonight. Is...that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay!” She forced bright enthusiasm into her voice, because she didn’t want to demean him by cooing over him, but he was just so...so  _ sweet.  _ He was so different, too. She felt affection well up in her, almost suffocating in its intensity. “I think that’s kind of amazing. That you want to have a discussion with me.”

He grinned and tugged on her paw, and she allowed herself to flop onto his chest. Both of his arms went around her torso and she relaxed into him, feeling him try to breathe deeply, listening to his heart pound below her head. It was a different kind of intimacy, and she liked this, too. She felt the vibrations when he asked, “How is that even a little amazing?”

“Guys don’t say stuff like that to me,” she laughed into his fur before pushing herself up on her elbows. Eye contact was important, and also, she liked the way he looked at her. She’d spent months and months trying to avoid being looked at, trying to make up for her mistakes, trying to make things  _ right  _ again so that she’d deserve to be looked at as the hero everybody mistook her for, but here was this genuine and passionate mammal who made her feel special. She didn’t feel bad about herself around him. She felt wanted. It was kind of like the feeling she got from Nick when they video chatted, except her relationship with Nick was platonic, and this...really, really wasn’t. Guys  _ didn’t  _ say stuff like that to her, and maybe they had a good reason, even if she didn’t think it was good at all. “I’m intense sometimes. I get really enthusiastic, but not about...normal stuff. When I was in college, I’d either talk endlessly about my favorite subject and bore everyone to tears, or I’d talk about my ambitions and make them uncomfortable. The Zoo County criminal code isn’t exactly great pillow talk, you know? I went on a date with a jackrabbit once, and he was fine at dinner when it was mostly surface chat but as soon as we were done he didn’t want to hear me say anything but  _ yes please.”  _ She snorted. “He was good with his tongue, so I let it slide, but I didn’t call him back. Other rabbits — the bucks I tried to date, anyway — when we weren’t having sex, they just wanted to tell me how wrong I was for going after what I wanted.  _ Bunnies don’t do that. Bunnies don’t want that.  _ And in their minds, that meant bunnies shouldn’t say that, and if that was all I wanted to say, then I shouldn’t say anything at all.”

He began to trail his claw-tips through the fur on her lower back, making her shudder in mild pleasure, and reached out to bump her nose with his. “That’s not fair to you. I know some things are purely physical, but that sounds so boring. A real relationship...shouldn’t it be intimate? I want to know all about you, Judy Hopps. I want to know your likes and dislikes, how you grew up, and yes, I want to know your likes and dislikes in bed, too.” His claws dug in very slightly and her toes curled again. It felt so  _ good.  _ “Do you prefer to touch, or be touched?” His voice dipped lower. “How much warm-up do you need before cunnilingus? Do you like to cuddle after, or do you need space?”

“I-I’ve never really...negotiated any of this stuff before,” she admitted, gasping a little at the feel of his sharp teeth  _ nipping  _ at her. He wasn’t hurting her with any of his sharp edges, but he  _ could.  _ She knew he could. Foxes had the perfect design to kill and eat bunnies. But instead, he was being gentle, providing nice sensations. Showing her the control he had over himself. Self-mastery was an attractive quality in a mammal, one she aspired to as well. The other part of his statement registered, suddenly, and she felt even  _ warmer.  _ “You want a real relationship with me?”

“Is that not where we were going?”

She was touched and concerned by the hesitant vulnerability in his voice. She didn’t want to ever cause that in someone she cared about. “It is, I just didn’t realize — didn’t expect you to say it out loud. So far, the relationships I’ve had kind of happened. We were just dating, and neither of us were sure when that became a thing. Bunnies don’t commit easily, because we tend to be so fiercely monogamous when we  _ do  _ find a partner that...we need to be sure. We need to be compatible emotionally, sexually, intellectually…”

“So we’ll need to have sex before we get serious, if that’s where this ends up going. Noted.” His smile lit up his face even in the dim glow from the moon and the wall-mounted nightlight. “I look forward to all of that.”

“Even the weird intense stuff,” she asked, because nobody except Major Friedkin had ever accused her of being bright, and because there was still that seed of self-doubt in her that she couldn't shake.

“Hey.” He brought one of his paws up to stroke her cheek and tap her nose, gentle pressure and something playful. “If  _ you  _ don’t like how intense you are, by all means, change it. Be someone you like. But never be ashamed of it. Never be ashamed of who you are. Don’t let anyone tell you that you are anything short of spectacular.”

“You’re pretty spectacular yourself,” she murmured, looking away. It was embarrassing to just be complimented like that, by someone she had hurt, even if it was indirectly. Why didn’t he hold it against her? She brightened deliberately. What kind of mammal could be so ungrateful for forgiveness? Not Judy. She didn't want to be so selfish. “Okay. As you know, I grew up in Bunnyburrow. It's got over 80,000,000 residents, but we still only had  _ one  _ general store, so you can probably guess the scope of the co-op community my ancestors established…”

* * *

She video called with Nick at least once per week, because he was her best friend and Judy wanted to give him what she had been denied. She remembered how isolated she had felt at the ZPA, no allies to speak of and certainly no encouragement from home, and she didn’t want that to be Nick’s experience. She wanted him to feel accepted and supported and loved. So, bright-eyed and fluffy-tailed, she called him as soon as she got back from Jimmy's on Saturday morning. She was working nights that week, so she had all day to talk to Nick and nap and catch up on housekeeping, and she intended to spend at least half an hour cheering on her best friend.

“I hate you, Officer Hopps,” was his opening, to which she rolled her eyes. Honestly, he was so dramatic.

“Have you started the obstacle courses? Is that what this is about?”

He nodded morosely, but Judy had known him for months now; she could tell the difference between so-called puppy eyes, which was some weird canid guilt-trip joke, and real sadness. He was really laying the goober on thick. She might have too, had she had anyone to joke with during her time at the academy, so fair was fair. “You didn’t tell me, Carrots. You didn’t tell me that part of police training is attempting to not get murdered.”

“Nobody’s trying to murder you. They’re just trying to toughen you up, so that nobody  _ else  _ can murder you,” she told him, amused. “It’s a cutthroat world out there. Not just murderers, there’s litterbugs, too.”

His face went all soft and appreciative and she wanted to hug him, but there were miles and miles of space between them, so she just watched him and hoped he was happy. He’d been so unhappy before, paranoid and wary of anyone who could hurt him, which was everyone. She couldn’t fathom living like that for months, let alone decades. It was these little things, though, the teasing and the softer smiles that made her think he was getting better.

“Yeah,” he said. “Gotta watch out for those sneaky little devils. But enough about deplorable crimes, what’s got Judy Hopps in such a perky mood?”

Jimmy was real now, and she didn’t want to hide anything real from Nick, so despite her misgivings, she said, “I’ve been going out with this guy. I wasn’t sure if it was going anywhere, but last night we laid it all out on the table and decided we wanted to try. I feel like I told him my whole life story, and now he calls me Judith.” She huffed, but she wasn’t  _ really  _ upset. “I don’t like being called Judith, but, well. It’ll grow on me.  _ Carrots  _ grew on me.”

“Really? Where? Can I see,” Nick asked, all exaggerated curiosity and charm.

“Oh, for cripes’ sake, Nick, you know what I mean! I’m okay with it because I  _ like  _ you!”

Smugly, he replied, “It’s only natural. No one can resist this face. This is the face of a  _ saint.” _

“Yeah? Does the Major call you Saint Nick? Does she let you skip out on things?” She grinned. “How many dies do you have now?”

“Not enough to ragequit, but enough to pass the controller,” he shot back. “I’m interested in this guy I’ve never heard about. What’s his name? Where does he live?”

She leaned back against her pillow, feeling full and...happy. It was great. Her chest felt warm just thinking about — could she call him her boyfriend now? “Well, his name’s Jimmy, and he lives in Zootopia, but he was born in a town out west. Skyeview. He has three-”

“Skyeview? Wait, that’s-”

“Yes, it’s where they got Skye Frost’s name,” she agreed with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Nobody ever accused the  _ Agent Savage  _ writers of being creative geniuses.”

“No, I mean that’s a fox town. Only something like one out of every fifty residents is anything other than a fox.” He leaned back as well, in a chair rather than in a bed. “I know for a fact that there aren’t any bunnies there, unless they’re underground. You’re dating a fox?”

“Yes, I am. Do you have a problem with that?”

He raised one paw while the other made the camera shake a little. His smile was gone, but so was the frown. “No problems here. I’m just a little surprised, after you told me about that other fox, Gideon something.”

“That was a long time ago. We’re friends now. And I’m friends with  _ you,  _ aren’t I?”

“Dating isn’t the same. You’ll be doing...other things,” he said patiently.

She snorted, though, because clearly he didn’t know much about bunnies. “Will be doing.  _ Have done.  _ It’s not like he’s my first crush. He’s not even my first boyfriend. You don’t have to underestimate me, Nick; I’m not a child, and I’m not blind. I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m not underestimating you, Carrots, I’m just...trying to look out for you. He’s a  _ fox.” _

Suddenly, Judy was in the frustrating position to have to choose between pointing out Nick’s apparent internalized speciesism, and risk offending him, or shutting up, and risk feeling guilty for not standing up for Jimmy and Gideon and other foxes. She decided to try another tactic. “So are you, Nick, and we’re friends.”

“And it’s becoming more and more apparent that you have  _ no idea  _ what that means,” he said, obviously frustrated.

She refused to budge, though. “It means I value you and you value-”

“I could kill you in your sleep,” he said flatly. His eyes were narrow and his breath was quick — he was genuinely upset about this, wasn’t he? Did he really hate being a fox that much? Sometimes she hated being a bunny, too, mostly when mammals didn’t take her seriously or said certain hurtful things, but she wasn’t  _ ashamed  _ of how she’d been born, she was just irritated by the speciesism. She opened her mouth, but he ran over her. “It would be so easy. My mouth is the perfect size to bite into your neck and my teeth are sharp enough to sever your spinal cord, not that it would matter with you bleeding out. You trust me. If I needed a place to stay, you’d let me stay with you. Hell, you’d probably let me share your bed. And when you were asleep, I could kill you near-instantaneously. Now, maybe he’s the sweetest, gentlest fox in the entire world, but think about the fact that there’s a drug out there that can make any mammal go savage, and there are probably some prey supremacists with access to that flower who are pissed off that you stopped Dawn Bellwether from carrying out whatever insane plot she was trying for. Think about that and tell me again that I’m wrong to worry.”

“You’re wrong to worry,” she told him, because she’d  _ already  _ thought of that and discarded it. “Nick, I’m in danger no matter what. Even if the only thing I had to do was tell jaywalkers to knock it off, I’m partnered with Rivers, and she’s a wolf. If someone were going to do that, they’d be more likely to dart  _ her  _ through the window of our cruiser. An elephant could step on me. I could get hit by a bus. I could go camping in Bunnyburrow and get snatched by a hawk in my sleep. I can’t let fear rule my life! I can’t go around just...not trusting anybody because of what  _ might  _ happen. That’s how my parents live, and that’s why they tried to kill my dreams, and you know what? That really messed me up. For the longest time I thought they didn’t love me, or at least they wished I was someone else, and I never want to make  _ anyone  _ feel that way ever again, so I can’t live like that. I  _ won’t.” _

Nick looked like he’d been slapped. She wanted to apologize, but this time, she really wasn’t in the wrong. The last time she had allowed fear to overrule her judgment, she had almost lost Nick. She wouldn’t —  _ couldn’t —  _ let that happen again. She didn’t feel that way about her parents anymore, but that didn’t mean the damage was magically reversed, and she wanted to do better. To  _ be  _ better. She acknowledged the dangers of living, but she lived anyway.

Finally, he asked, “You don’t have an  _ ounce  _ of self-preservation instinct, do you?”

“I have buckets full,” she countered, but she kept her voice softer. She didn’t want to fight with him. He was being overprotective, insultingly so, but in a world that had chewed him up and spat him out, a world where she could be killed if someone accidentally sat on her, she’d try not to take it personally. “It’s just...I’m a bunny. To pretend I’m not is stupid. Bunnies are hard-wired to be fearful of threats, but this is a modern society. Yes, I’m fearful of threats — and wouldn’t you know, the sound of a fridge turning on randomly actually registers in my brain as a threat. If I avoided everything I’m instinctively afraid of, I’d be too afraid to live at all. So I preserve myself as best I can, and what logic doesn’t take care of, sheer stubbornness does.”

“You’re out there,” he said quietly, watching the screen, “and I’m in here. I keep thinking of Manchas, of how close he was to eating us both. And it wouldn’t have been his fault, but we’d still be dead. I dream about it sometimes. In my dreams, I’m the one cuffed to a pole, and he eats you, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I wake up and you’re alive, but I still can’t help thinking of all the ways even a routine foot patrol could go wrong. Is it irrational to worry about this  _ Jimmy  _ guy hurting you? Maybe. So just remember that you’re not invulnerable, Carrots. You could stand to be a little more paranoid. Keep yourself safe.”

She offered him a smile. He was just looking out for her, after all. “I’m lucky to have a friend like you. I’m still annoyed that you underestimate me, but I’m glad I get to have you in my life. I’d say I’d take two, but…”

He fluttered his lashes and brought his paws up to his mouth. “I’m one of a kind? Aww.”

“One of you already drives me crazy,” she grumped without heat. No need to give him a big head. But...yeah. Before he’d ruined the mood with a lame joke, that  _ had  _ been what she was about to say.


	2. Honeymoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NRE warring with guilt. You know how it's gonna go.

They were an island, until suddenly, they weren’t. Another middle-of-the-road diner in the middle of the week — it was important to them, something that _they did together,_ even if it wasn’t particularly fancy or interesting — and Judy was laughing at one of Jimmy’s work stories. She leaned forward to feed him a slice of strawberry from her plate, but was halted by a voice from behind her.

“Always knew you were a pervert, Brownpaw, but a rabbit? _Really?”_

Judy turned her head to see a slick-looking koala wearing comfortable-looking slacks and a collared shirt with no tie, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a sweater vest covering most of his torso. She scowled at the slight, both against Jimmy and against herself. There was some kind of bizarre double standard; bunnies as a species were pretty regularly fetishized, but rabbits in particular were also considered child-like, so much so that a prominent political pundit had only been gently chastised for wondering if rabbits could consent to interspecies relationships at all. Rural bunnies didn’t usually care what other mammals thought of them, but things were different for Judy. She was a minor public figure. If she couldn’t even command respect from the ones who called her a hero, how could she begin to command respect from the ones she’d be sent to interview or arrest?

“Richard,” Jimmy said tightly. “How nice to see you.”

Richard’s eyes zeroed in on Judy, who tried not to let her nose twitch. Mostly it was involuntary, and it was a reaction to physical stimuli rather than a fear response, but mammals interpreted it that way, so she had been working on keeping her nose still. He raised an eyebrow and leaned over, jerking a thumb at Jimmy. “Listen, Sweetie, what’s this loser paying you? I’d double it just to give you a break from your _intolerable_ evening.”

Oh. Oh, _that_ wasn’t going to fly. She mimicked his expression and added her own little brand of smug. “I happen to be paying tonight, because it’s my turn; that’s how real dates work, although judging by your attitude I’m sure you’ve never been on one.”

“Judith, just let it go,” Jimmy muttered. She glanced at him, confused. His eyes were down at his lap and his ears were flat, turned back like Judy’s did when she was angry.

So, not only was Richard a jerk, but he had the gall to scare Jimmy? How was she supposed to let it _go?_ She cared about him, and she cared about their relationship, and letting this random koala get away with bullying her boyfriend — or anyone, for that matter — wasn’t _just!_ It wasn’t right! She looked at Richard again, eyes narrow. “I could drop kick you off a bridge right now, but lucky for you, _my boyfriend_ doesn’t want that. Step off and let us eat in peace.”

Jimmy rested his foot against her shin and said, _“Judith.”_

“Yeah, _Judith,”_ Richard echoed, sounding amused. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone, but just remember that you don’t have to fuck him tonight. He’ll be fucked tomorrow.”

“What’s that-”

But Richard was already away, chuckling as he left, the dirtbag. She bared her teeth at his back and settled in her seat, huffing. She looked up at Jimmy, who...didn’t look at all happy with her. “What did you think you were _doing,_ Judith? I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”

“I wasn’t fighting your battle, I was having your _back,”_ she protested, “and besides-”

He snarled. “I don’t need you to have my back. Do me a favor, Miss Busybody, and next time, for once in your life, keep your mouth shut.”

She felt herself droop from ears to tail. A small part of her reared up in offense, but a larger, probably more sensible part of her realized that she _did_ have a problem with her mouth. After all, if she’d kept quiet at that press conference, then maybe she wouldn’t have hurt _so many_ mammals. If she’d kept quiet when she’d met Nick, then maybe she wouldn’t have had to blackmail him into helping her find Mr. Otterton. She obviously had a problem with her judgment; she spoke up at the wrong times, she said the wrong things, trusted the wrong mammals…this was just another mistake in a long line of mistakes involving her big dumb bunny mouth.

“I’m sorry, Jimmy,” she said. Her chest hurt. “I didn’t think — I’m sorry.”

“No, you _didn’t_ think,” he replied. “Richard...we work together. Our boss is a traditionalist prick, and I am _very good_ at what I do, but I’m not stupid enough to think that I’m irreplaceable. At least when he thought you were a hooker-”

“Sex worker,” she corrected without thinking, and then hated herself a little.

 _“Sex worker,”_ he amended, “I just looked like a sleaze, and I could have gotten away with saying you were just my friend. But there are standards I have to meet, and I don’t know if dating a rabbit is considered _negatively representing_ the firm.”

“They — that’s not a fireable offense. You’re protected under the law, which a _lawyer_ should know,” she said awkwardly. She didn’t want to be fighting with him. Clearly she had made a mistake, but she didn’t want Jimmy to think he had no recourse. “Zootopia’s not in an at-will province, so they have to give a reason.”

“Yes, and we both know that employers are _always_ fair and forthright.”

She sighed and looked down. Her plate was unappetizing now. “I didn’t mean to make things worse. I just don’t like the idea of a bully getting away with it, _especially_ since he was bullying you. Plus...I mean, aside from all of that...maybe it’s not as important, but what he was saying reflected badly on me, too. It’s always the same. And, you know, sex work is fine, it pays the bills and I’m sure some mammals enjoy it, but I’m tired of the stereotype.”

“Interesting how the tables turn when it’s _you_ on the end of the profiling,” he said meanly, and she stiffened — he was right, she was _awful,_ she’d been awful and she was still awful, trying to justify her mistake as though her intentions actually mattered. She looked up at him, because she _deserved_ his scorn, but when she did, he looked up at the light and sighed. “Cripes, I’m sorry, Judith, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, it’s...I deserved it.”

He shook his head and reached over the table to take her paw. “No, you didn’t. I said it because I knew it would hurt you, not because it was true. God...I’m just as bad as your Nick. Might as well have called you a dumb bunny.”

There was so much she wanted to say. She wanted to defend her best friend, of course she did, and she wanted to reassure Jimmy, and a small, sick part of her wanted him to insult her again, because _nobody else would,_ and she deserved his anger. She deserved more anger than she’d gotten. Who was she to get off so lightly?

Quietly, she admitted, “Sometimes I am just a dumb bunny.”

“You’re not. Every mammal can be dumb sometimes,” he said, squeezing, “but if anyone’s calling you that just because of your species, you should make them eat their own eyeteeth. I’m sorry for tonight, Judith. I got spooked and I took it out on you. Bear with me, all right? I’m still trying to get used to having someone care about me enough to stand up for me.”

It broke her heart to hear him say that. Jimmy was a good mammal, a sweet one, who had flaws just like anybody else, and he deserved more than to have to _get used to_ being cared for. Of course she’d bear with him, bear whatever needed to be borne. It was no hardship to care for him and _show him_ that she did. “I’m here for you, Jimmy, however you need me.”

“I know.” He kissed her paw, brightening. “Let me get the bill tonight. To make up for this.”

“You don’t have to, Jimmy, it’s my turn to pay.”

“I insist,” he told her, and his eyes were soft and she felt loved, so she let him pay.

Later, as they waited for their train, Judy leaned against him and asked, “Do you think I’ll ever be able to change? To be a better mammal?”

“I think you’re great already,” he said, stroking her collarbone with the thumb of the paw he had draped over her shoulder.

“I know you do, but I keep making mistakes. Stupid ones. I don’t think I can trust my own judgment.”

“Then,” he told her, “trust _me._ I will never lie to you, Judith. You deserve better than that. And I think the world of you. So if I tell you that you’re doing something wrong, it’ll be the truth. Tonight wasn’t your fault, okay? Don’t feel bad about it. Richard’s a jerk, and you’re allowed to stand up for yourself.”

It felt good to be validated. Ever since she had come back to Zootopia, she’d been plagued with worry; she hadn’t gone to Chief Bogo because she had worried he was in on the plot to dose predators with Midnicampum holicithias, and she’d been wrong. After that, she had trusted that the ZPD was incorruptible, and according to some recent allegations, it was possible she was wrong about that too.

It was nice to have a safety net — someone who would tell her if she were being stupid _because_ he cared for her — and she melted against him, listening to his heart, grateful that she’d met him.

* * *

Much to Judy’s relief, Richard either had no sway with Jimmy’s boss or Jimmy _was_ irreplaceable, because nothing came of that night in the diner except a nagging worry that she’d never be good enough to deserve his love and _forgiveness_ for being so...well, for being herself when it would be better to be someone kinder and less aggressive. She was used to that by now, though, due to her wonderful, inexplicable friendship with Nick, so functionally nothing had changed; they were both still working, and they were moving onto new territory.

Jimmy was a paralegal for a divorce lawyer, which meant that he wrote the majority of court documents, did the legwork during discovery, and kept the actual lawyer on schedule. He joked that it was perfect, because he basically got to practice law but had none of the liability and didn’t have to pay through the nose for malpractice insurance, but she could see that he took his cases too personally. He cared about the clients. Every time a spiteful mammal tried to use the children as leverage, he got angry. He carried around a lot of tension and had no real outlet, so with that in mind, Judy planned a very special date.

The next Saturday she had off, she took Jimmy to her favorite gym. The one at the station still didn’t have equipment for small mammals, so she’d had to get a membership at one in town; there was a boxing ring, which she usually avoided unless she could do a couple of rounds with a wolf she’d met after coming back to Zootopia, and a back area with training equipment, where she spent most of her gym time.

This gym was her favorite because it was full of mammals who took their training seriously. There weren’t any creeps looking to score, or if there were, they didn’t last very long; these were professionals, athletes and fighters who’d stand up for each other. She appreciated the sense of community, and bringing Jimmy to the gym was in a lot of ways a sign of trust. If he made trouble, she’d probably be treated with caution until she could earn their trust back. But she knew him. He wouldn’t make trouble for her. At worst, he’d just tell her he was uncomfortable and they’d leave.

“This is where I go when I need to do something physical,” she told him, gesturing to the inside. He took it in, amber eyes wide, a slant in his mouth Judy couldn’t quite read. She brightened, though, when it turned into a smile. She wanted to share her life with him. They’d only known each other for four months or so, but it felt like so much longer. He meant a lot to her. Of all the mammals she knew, only Cotton and Nick came before him. Well, them, and the city of Zootopia in general, but only on a professional level.

“I don't know why I'm surprised,” he teased, looking good even in the dark red workout clothes she had suggested he wear. “You're clearly an action hero.”

“That’s what it says on my CV,” she replied with a wink, surprising herself. She wasn’t always great at flirting. It helped, she supposed, that she knew Jimmy and thus knew how he’d react. Sure enough, he laughed and winked back, an exaggerated thing that made him look young. He was only a few months older than she, but somehow he always _felt_ older to her. Maybe because he’d been working his job for four years, and she was just barely out of school. Or maybe because she had been sheltered until just recently, first by the isolation of Bunnyburrow, then by the constraints of a regional school in the Tri-Burrows area, and then by the exclusivity of the ZPA. It was nice to see him act his age. And on that note… “I brought you here because I thought this was something we could do together. You’re always saying you don’t have much of an outlet.”

“That’s true,” he said thoughtfully, eyeing the equipment. “I don’t know how to use any of this stuff, though.”

“Well, I’ll stand behind the bag, and you punch it,” she suggested.

He looked at her. She looked at him, a slight challenge in her expression. He shrugged and followed her to her favorite punching bag, thankfully unoccupied, and watched her situate herself behind it. “Are you sure it won’t hurt you?”

“Jimmy, honey, I’ve taken down a rhinoceros. It’ll take more than a training exercise to take me out of the game,” Judy told him, although she knew that lifting her up by her ears would definitely do serious damage to her hearing and probably her spine, too. In ancient times, bunny necks could snap from it; mammals today were much sturdier, but it was still dangerous. Fortunately, most mammals didn’t know that, so it was unlikely that a perp would go for her ears. “C’mon, hit the bag.”

“Shouldn’t I wrap my paws?”

“I don’t usually. Bare-knuckle training helps keep my wrists and other joints strong, and it’s how I’d take on a criminal who came after me if I lost my tranq for some reason, but if you want to…”

He shook his head. “No, I’ll do it like you do it. Okay. Here I go.”

She braced herself for the solid punch she was anticipating, but Jimmy’s blow to the bag was...underwhelming. Instead of anything firm, it was a bit feeble, but then, she shouldn’t have been surprised; he wasn’t a fighter. He spent most of his time behind a desk, and he was a self-proclaimed pacifist.

“Yeowch,” he yelped, hopping away from the bag. “Oh, fuck, my _claws!”_

She had assumed he knew how to throw a punch, at least! That had been an oversight — and not a funny one. She hurried around to take a look at his paw. Fortunately, he wasn’t bleeding, and his claws weren’t broken or bent.

“I’m sorry, I should have said something,” she told him, kissing his palm after examining it carefully. He had little dents, but there wasn’t any lasting damage. Just to show a little extra affection, she kissed the pad of his forefinger, too. “I just assumed…”

“You know what they say about assuming,” he said dryly.

She frowned, trying to think of what he might mean. It felt like there should be a punchline, but if there was one, she couldn’t guess what it was. “It’s not good?”

Jimmy’s laugh was sudden and unexpected, but not unpleasant. “Yeah. That’s it — it’s not good. Clearly I _don’t_ know how to throw a punch. How does it work, Judith?”

“It’s easier for mammals with retractable claws, or no claws at all,” she explained, settling into her element. This was stuff she knew. It was stuff she’d used. She could speak from a position of authority, when so often she had no authority at all, even if her badge said otherwise. “Some mammals with non-retractable claws choose to use silicone caps to protect their fingers and palms, but the rest of us just learn how to make a looser fist. It’s a different motion, because it means more precision. If you hit with your paw in the wrong position, you’ll miss your palm with your claws, but you’ll also run the risk of breaking your wrist.”

“Maybe you should show me how it’s done,” he teased. Was he flirting? She hoped so. “This is your arena, after all.”

She glanced at the bag. She was hungry for it; work had been stressful lately, and she was still hurt about the way witnesses sometimes outright refused to talk to her because she couldn’t possibly be a real cop, and she still felt _guilty._ It was almost omnipresent, six months after they’d arrested Dawn Bellwether. She still didn’t know how Ben Clawhauser could stand to look at her after her mistakes had gotten him transferred to records. She didn’t know why Rivers liked her. And Jimmy…

She was lucky, and she felt like she didn’t deserve the luck she had, and she felt guilty for not being as grateful for it as she should be, and that knot of tension and frustration needed to be worked out. She nodded and said, “All right. Hold it for me?”

“Just the way you did? Brace myself against it?”

She nodded and pumped her fist a few times, making sure her paws weren’t too stiff. Police work was more paperwork than punching — which was a good thing — and she had seen too many fractures in the ZPA to think she could get away with not keeping her wrists primed. Rabbit bones weren’t the sturdiest in the world, even if she’d been lucky enough to escape lasting injuries.

When Jimmy was ready, she took a deep breath and _let go._

_Let go._

_Let go._

She lost herself in rhythm and sound, allowing muscle memory to carry her through the adrenaline rush. Her upper arms burned nicely and she’d probably have sore shoulders for a couple of days, but it always felt _better_ when she had an outlet. Part of it was probably a little bit masochistic, punishing her body because her mind wouldn’t let her forgive herself yet, but mostly it was a way to let loose. Every punch to the bag represented someone telling her to calm down because she wasn’t smiling enough. Every kick helped her work out her frustration at not being taken seriously. Her usual routine pumped her full of endorphins, feel-good hormones that recharged her — she’d be able to face a new work week bright-eyed and perky-eared.

She could feel Jimmy’s eyes on her, and it felt good. She hadn’t known it, but she _liked_ being admired. He knew her, he was watching her in an intimate moment, and he wasn’t running. It made her feel powerful. It made her feel valuable. It made her feel _cared for._ She didn’t know it intellectually; she felt it, _emotionally_ and _physically_ and her cheeks hurt from smiling.

He wanted her. She wanted him, too, and after she came down, she was going to tell him so.

* * *

Her pants were on the floor at the foot of Jimmy’s bed, and Judy wanted to do a sexy little striptease, but she didn’t know how, and she didn’t want to take off her shirt. So she gave him a slow smile and crawled up his leg, his torso, all the way up to his head, and kissed him. In contrast, he hadn’t a stitch on him, and she could see all the places he was soft. All the places he was hard, too.

He made a soft little moaning noise and scooped her up, turning her onto her back, hovering. She tried not to be disappointed — it wasn’t as fun when she didn’t have enough leverage to do at least half the work — and focused on his eyes, glistening and adoring. He adored her. It meant a lot and sent wet warmth through her chest. It felt so good to be wanted for who she was, not what she was; not a fetish fantasy and not a fixer-upper project, but a mammal, as real as anyone else. When he reached up to push his paws under her shirt, though, she caught his wrists and said, “I want to leave it on.”

He frowned. “Are you cold? I can turn on my space heater.”

“I’m not cold, I just don’t like taking my shirt off.”

He shrugged, moved his paws to her hips instead. His smile returned. “Then we’ll work around it. Though, this messes up my evil plans.”

She raised an eyebrow, trying to see Jimmy having evil plans. He had made some pretty creative statements about his more irritating clients, but that was all in good fun. “What evil plans?”

“Well,” he said warmly, dragging a claw-tip across her chest, so softly she didn’t worry about the integrity of the shirt, “I was going to mess up your fur right here, and tickle your navel scar. Then I was going to get down here, to your underwear-” He brushed the crotch of her undies with his thumb, and she tensed, anticipating more. “-and I was going to tease you about how wet you are for me.”

“I’m not wet _yet,”_ she said through a gasped laugh.

“Sure, I know, it’s just discharge. But then you’d correct me, see, and you’d tell me how to _really_ get you wet. Because, uh. I don’t know how you work.” He smiled bashfully. “I want this to be good for you.”

She pushed herself up, pecked him on the forehead, and lay back down. “It’ll be good if it’s you, Jimmy.”

Not because that was universally true — some mammals were garbage in bed — but because the real test of sexual prowess wasn’t numbers or technique or even whether or not they loved you. The real test was attentiveness. A loving spouse of 20 years could be terrible in bed if they weren’t attentive, and a one-night stand could be the best experience of your life if they knew how to listen and observe your body’s cues. If Jimmy wanted it to be good for her, he was halfway over the hurdle already. Some mammals just needed encouragement.

“Thanks for that.” He nosed at her vulva and she jerked, which made him smile, the cheeky thing. “We need to set a safeword.”

“I’m pretty sure if _no_ and _stop_ and _I don’t like that_ are insufficient, then neither of us should be here,” she said, nonplussed. It wasn’t like she was planning to tie him up or anything. Or let him tie her up, for that matter. Hesitantly, she asked, “What kind of sex are you thinking of, here?”

“Sorry. My last — it’s reflex,” he said, stroking her hip, and the way he managed to be apologetic without tripping over himself was attractive. “As long as you’re okay, then so am I.”

“You keep sweet-talking me, I’ll start wriggling like a worm,” she told him truthfully.

“As fun as that would be, I’d rather just touch you,” he said, and whatever reply she might have had was washed away when he did.

As she melted under his careful, gentle touch, she had a strange thought that he was too good to be true, but it was washed away too as he played her body expertly.

Jimmy's thumb-pad pressed against the soft fabric of her seamless panties, the plain blue ones she'd had for a couple of years, as his other paw worked through the loose fur on her belly. Her lower back arced a little as a small stroke pushed her clitoris into a diagonal groove and he took that reaction and _ran_ with it, using one finger to lightly shift that area over and over. She shook from abdominals to knees, keening quietly; he was in the way of her closing her legs, so she could only quiver and rub her heels and calves along his elbows. He looked up at her, delight in his smile—

And she fell, feather-light and monstrously heavy at the same time, her back firmly against Jimmy's mattress and her head pressed almost painfully into his pillow. Her chest squeezed and she liked him a lot and she wanted more of him.

He pressed a kiss to her vulva and asked, “Mind if I take these off?”

“G-go ahead.”

His treatment was soft and slow, something she had never felt before. Jimmy liked to take his time and be precise, and it showed: he pulled carefully at the waistband and peeled the undies off of her, laying kisses on each new patch of bared fur, until she was squirmy and ready for round two, and the light blue fabric was...she didn't care where it was. Not in the way, and that was good enough. His thin, flexible tongue swept over her clitoris and she dug her nails into the sheets, but he didn’t let it happen for very long; keeping eye contact, he lifted her paws and threaded his fingers through hers and licked again. She tried not to squeeze, but she did it anyway, and he rewarded her with a swirl of his tongue that took the air right out of her lungs.

He was as attentive as she’d thought he would be. Each little jerk of her hips was carefully noted and repeated, every gasp or moan was matched with the appropriate motion, and she felt like his paws in hers were all that kept her from drowning. Heat marched through her, expanding her chest, invading her head, and when she crashed again it was with a strangled cry of his name.

“I want...Jimmy, I want you to…”

And she stopped, because how was she supposed to ask for intercourse without sounding clinical? Usually this was the point at which mammals either backed off or went after what they wanted, but what did Jimmy want? Was he even ready?

Understanding her intent, thankfully, he asked, “Do you have a condom?”

“Yes, I carry around canid condoms in my wallet just in case,” she teased, losing air once again when he licked her. “Jimmy, you can’t get me pregnant.”

“Right, I...I forgot. Okay. You’re okay?”

She moved her paw to rub his head and said, “I’m great. I want you to be great too. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Of course, I.” He hovered over her again, and she felt his tip press against her vagina, and she was _excited_ because it was him, it was _them._ “Okay. Okay.”

Romance novels made a big deal of coitus hurting especially for the first time, but Judy knew that wasn’t true. Every bunny knew that, because part of bunny culture was comprehensive and inclusive sex ed. It had to be; bunnies sexually matured pretty early and without guidance, kits as young as eleven could be making baby bunnies long before they could take care of them. So Judy had been taught from a young age that sex needed to be safe and consensual, and it _wasn’t_ supposed to hurt, and thus far — even with the jackrabbit from college — it hadn’t. At least, not until Jimmy thrusted in.

And although she cried out in pain, she hoped he mistook it for a cry of pleasure. Because it was different. He was bigger than any of her other partners, was all. He had done everything right. He’d pleased her and coaxed her into orgasm _twice_ before even considering himself, and she _wanted_ to have sex with him, and it _hurt,_ oh God, it hurt so much, but she could deal with it. She would be fine, she just needed to adjust, and he thrusted again and it burned and she cried out again, and—

“Judith, are you all right?”

She blinked up at him, her vision swimming, shadows gathering at the corners. She wanted this. It was like her job: the ZPA had been painful and humiliating, but being an officer was worth it. This was worth it. _Jimmy_ was worth it. “I’m fine.”

His eyes closed, and she watched him shudder, but he slowly — carefully — withdrew. It was like swallowing a too-big bite of something, burning agony as he moved along her vaginal canal, but when he was finally out, she gasped in relief. He reached out and cupped her cheek, thumbing her scars, and she hoped he wasn’t feeling guilty. The pain wasn’t his fault.

“I hurt you,” he concluded, hovering over her with one paw beside her head. He looked so _sad._ “Judith, I-”

 _“You_ didn’t hurt me,” she said sternly, or at least she tried to, but she didn’t have enough breath yet. “It’s a size issue. I’ll be able to adjust if you want to try again.”

“I don’t.”

“But…”

He heaved a sigh, watching her with something like fondness, she thought. Hoped. “Between sacrificing momentary pleasure to make sure you’re okay, or hurting you just to get my rocks off, it’s not even a choice. This is why I wanted a safeword; I _wanted_ you to tell me if anything was wrong.”

“And _I_ didn’t appreciate being told what to do,” she reminded him. She gripped his paw and turned her head to kiss his palm, though, and loved that it made him close his eyes. She could still feel him hard against her thigh, and she kind of loved that, too. “Just randomly talking about a safeword kind of felt like you were planning to do kinky things to me without asking, and I want a say in what we do.”

“And yet, you didn’t stop me when I hurt you.”

“Because I _want_ you.”

He watched her face. She soaked up his attention gratefully. The way he looked at her made her feel priceless. Valuable. Not something to be ashamed of, but someone who could be cared for. He pecked her forehead gently and rolled onto his side. “What the Queen wants, the Queen shall get. I’m yours for the taking. Except for intercourse.”

She frowned as she swung up onto her knees. He was halfway splayed out, bare fur gleaming in the dim light, his penis unfairly thick. She reached out and gripped it — he was warm in her paw, and her ears perked up at the sound of his gasp, and she still felt bad because she wanted to give him what he wanted. So she asked, “Are you sure? I don’t want you to have to sacrifice _anything.”_

He took her paw away and squeezed gently. “Don’t think of it as a sacrifice, then. Think of it as a promise. We’ll keep trying, different ways, until we find something that works. I want to be compatible with you. I don’t want this to be a problem between us, something I enjoy and you don’t. You’re too important.”

“You’re important to me, too,” she told him, and resolved to find a way to show him.


	3. Sharp Edges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's this rabbit who stole things it never deserved to have?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for panic attacks. I tried not to be too explicit, but still.

Jimmy chased her out the door with a series of kisses, hardly motivating her to leave his apartment. For the first time since she’d come back to Zootopia, she wanted to take a day off, just to soak in the experience. But work was work, so she slipped her keys into her pocket and hoped she would have enough time to shower before she had to go to the station.

“Next time I see you,” he said from behind into her neck, draping his paws on her shoulders, “I want you to be in a skirt.”

“What? Why,” she asked, shaking him off so she could turn and kiss him properly.

“Because you’re beautiful, and I think you would stop making  _ that face  _ right there if you were proud of it instead of embarrassed. I’m just saying, if I had legs like yours, I’d never wear anything  _ but  _ a skirt.”

Well, she couldn’t be mad at him. He was trying to help her. Maybe it was in a weird way, but could she honestly say she had never been weird or made a mistake trying to help before? The first time she’d tried to help Zootopia, she’d managed to turn the city on itself, making life harder for mammals like Jimmy just to get by. She owed him a lot just for giving her a chance; wearing something else was hardly a sacrifice.

“I don’t know if I’ve said this to you,” she said into his chest, squeezing him in a hug, “but I’m so grateful you chose to look beyond my — my flaws, and my fears, and my mistakes. I always feel guilty about it, but you’ve been helping me get over it. Thank you.”

He squeezed back. “That’s really not something to thank me for, but if it helps...you’re welcome, Judith. I absolve you of your sins. Go in peace. And I mean it; if you don’t go now, you’ll have to show up at the station smelling like you spent a  _ very  _ passionate night with a fox.”

“I’m not ashamed of that,” she defended reflexively, and then ducked her head at his laugh.

“Your partner is a wolf. It’s not about shame, it’s about being polite. You don’t want to overwhelm her;  _ I  _ can smell me on you, and I’m usually nose-blind to myself.” He pressed one more kiss to her forehead. “Go, Judith. I’ll text you later.”

Reluctantly, Judy left the apartment, shutting the door gently behind her. Jimmy’s neighbor, a dik-dik who always seemed to be wearing scarves whenever Judy saw her, waved cheerily, so Judy waved back, smiling at another dik-dik as they passed. When she was nearly to the stairwell, she heard Jimmy’s neighbor say quietly, “That’s her. The predslut I mentioned. It’s not enough they let him live here, he has to play with his food right in front of us?”

Judy could have gone back and said something, but what? Don’t talk about Jimmy like that? Don’t be a garbage neighbor? Go jump out in front of moving traffic? It wouldn’t accomplish anything. Judy was nobody to them. They’d probably just find it amusing. So, keeping her dignity intact, she started down the stairs, making a mental note to do something nice for Bucky and Pronk soon. They might have been frustrating neighbors, noisy and nosy and constantly either fighting or having (loud) sex, but at least she knew where she stood with them.

* * *

Despite her rocky start with her coworkers, Judy had managed to make some friends on the force. Erin Rivers, her partner, was a wolf from South Bean who had transplanted just two years before Judy had entered the ZPA. James Wolfard had grown up in Meadowbrook. Being the smallest members of the ZPD, the three of them were able to get drinks together in a place that wouldn’t put Judy at risk of getting stepped on, which was a real danger with Trunkaby, Fangmeyer, or Rhinowitz. Initially, Judy had been worried — mostly because Nick, cynic that he was, had put the idea into her head — that they were only pretending to be her friends for some nefarious reason, but that had turned out to be untrue.

The  _ Fanged Barrel  _ was a mid-sized bar close to Judy’s Happytown apartment building, half a block away from the Value-Save where Judy bought her same-day produce and frozen dinners. Wolfard lived in the Woods District and Rivers somehow managed to live adjacent to the train station in Sahara Square, but they were willing to meet at the _ Barrel  _ because it was cheap and laid-back, and nobody cared what species you were (or who you were with) as long as you didn’t bring trouble. To the other patrons, the trio weren’t cops, and it was kind of nice; after a long day of taking verbal abuse and seeing mammals in pain, she liked being able to blend in and have fun. After all, making the world a better place wasn’t possible if she was too tired to try.

“So I walk into the yard and the dumbfuck says-” Rivers, already deep into her third IPA, broke down into giggles. “-Get back here, bitch, I’m not done with you!”

Wolfard howled with laughter, slapping a flat paw on the table. Judy was coming to appreciate these dark jokes — the incident in question had ended well, the domestic abuser arrested and charged, the cubs taken in by a beloved neighbor — because not every story had a good ending. In a lot of ways, the communal sense of humor in the ZPD reminded her of Bunnyburrow; native Burrows bunnies tended to party with death, knowing that bunny anatomy was delicate and farming was dangerous, knowing that at any age they could be snatched by an eagle if they weren’t careful, and life was to be cherished. Ash ceremonies were never occasions to mourn, but to celebrate connections, however fleeting. Things were different here in the big city, but the little similarities like this kept Judy from feeling homesick.

As a bonus, Rivers and Wolfard respected her, unlike the majority of the bunnies she’d grown up with.

“Okay, Hopps, you gotta tell us,” said Rivers, grinning widely. Judy treasured that, too: despite her mistakes, her partner and their friend trusted her enough to show their teeth and be themselves. “How’d you win over Big Bad Bogo?”

Her ears perked up. “I’m sorry?”

“The Chief. He hates change, which means he hates every rookie. And he  _ really  _ hated you, cos no matter how speciesist he was, you didn’t slouch with your tail between your legs. Or however bunnies show they’re licked,” Wolfard explained. “So how’d you do it?”

“I don’t think I did. Dawn Bellwether convinced him I was a good officer,” she admitted. It was a harsh truth, but one that needed to be acknowledged. Judy had turned into a good officer with some more experience and a partner who knew the ins and outs of  _ real  _ police work, but at the beginning of her career, she’d been a token, the face of the Mammal Inclusion Initiative, the perfect pawn-turned-knight for a power-hungry bioterrorist to advance her goals. “We had this...this meeting in her office. She asked me to be the  _ face  _ of the ZPD. That was when the Chief told me I was a good cop.”

“But you didn’t become the face of the ZPD. You went undercover.” Rivers’ face was the picture of confusion, and in another situation it might have been amusing, but not this time. “What happened?”

She shrugged and looked at the table. “The undercover story was just a story to feed to the media. It was good press, which I understand, and I also understand why  _ legally speaking  _ I was a UC, but I didn’t go undercover, I quit. When the Chief called me a good cop, I finally got it; I was still the token bunny. I hadn’t proved anything. I should have gotten canned for what I said at the press conference...so either I was working for an inherently speciesist institution, or I was just a cute face to slap onto some posters to make the ZPD look nonthreatening, but either way I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“I don’t get you, Hopps,” Wolfard said flatly.

“Why?”

“Everybody knows your story — bunny from the sticks makes something of herself, mammals notice, especially if the bunny in question solves a big 14-strong missing mammals case on her third day. It’s always been your dream to be an officer, isn’t that what you said to Rachel Furris when she interviewed you? Why would you quit when you finally had what you’d wanted your whole life?”

“It…” She eyed him, and then eyed Rivers, but neither of them looked disgusted with her. She wasn’t sure why, but the  _ why  _ was irrelevant. She was trying not to project her own insecurities onto other mammals. Jimmy was right: it was unattractive. “My goal wasn’t to be a  _ police officer,  _ my goal was to make the world a better place, and being an officer was my way of doing that. I quit because I wasn’t making the world a better place, I was hurting it. That’s all. It wasn’t even a hard decision.”

“No offense, but you really gotta let that go,” said Rivers, picking up on Judy’s internal guilt, or at least correctly guessing at it. “You’re not the first one to make a mistake. Yours isn’t even close to the worst I’ve seen; I was forcibly transferred to Zootopia because I blew the whistle on a police brutality case that would have gotten covered up. I remember the first time I fucked up on a case — got the fuckin name wrong on the report, got an innocent cub arrested. I felt like the worst piece of shit, the one they should throw bricks at.”

Judy winced. That was bad, all right, but there was a key difference. “Did you ever start a species war?”

“No.” Rivers snorted into her empty cup and then slid it to the side. “And neither did you, Hopps. I know you’re a good cub, but let’s not take that self-recrimination all the way to Narcissism, yeah? You really think some rookie cop who looks dead on her feet’s enough to start interspecies riots? Fuck, there was already shit going on while you were still at the academy, you just weren’t around to see it. Bellwether played on what was already there, because it was a ready-made power grab.”

“But I-”

“Everyone was terrified,” said Wolfard, uncharacteristically gentle. It sounded odd against the cheerful background music. “You don’t know what it was like to be a predator. Not the discrimination — you know a little something about that, I figure — but the dread. Nobody knew what was going on. Nobody knew what was making folks go savage. But it was only predators, and as much as it hurt to get eyeballed by prey, it was worse to look in the mirror, or look at the ones we loved, and wonder if today it was gonna be us. If today _we_ might go savage and kill our families, our friends, our partners...it wasn’t rough because of anything you said. It was rough because in the back of everybody’s mind, there was the _same damn question:_ what if. Nobody was protesting about the savage outbreak. We all, or at least those of us who weren’t completely obtuse, figured it _was_ biological, but there were different schools of thought about how it should be managed. We didn’t want to be put out of sight, we wanted to be safe. And we wanted our families to be safe. We wanted medical checks, medicine, an _investigation;_ most predators figured it was some kind of disease, just like that badger said. But a lot of prey just wanted us gone, and that was what the protests were about. That was what the fights were about. We all wanted to be safe, and segregation wouldn’t have made anyone safe.”

Judy thought that was too kind to the prey supremacists, personally, but who was she to speak for Wolfard? He was right that she hadn’t known, and couldn’t possibly have known, the subtleties of the political climate in Zootopia when she’d largely been sequestered in either school or the academy until her first day at work. It still felt wrong, though. His assessment was too kind to her, too. How did they not  _ see? _

“I guess you’re right,” she lied. Fake perk, fake smile. “Hey, I need to use the restroom. I’ll be back in a sec.”

She was an old pro at getting on top of too-large toilets, so she had no trouble sitting on the tank while she got herself together. The sting of guilt and self-doubt was hardly new, but she felt her heart racing, her stomach sinking, smelled electricity in the air — she was on the verge of fainting, an almost toxic ball of stress inside of her, clawing its way to the surface — there was no  _ reason  _ for it, nothing was scary, everyone was being so  _ nice,  _ but she’d almost lost Nick over this. It wasn’t a small thing, it wasn’t a little misstep. Nick had forgiven her, but she had only come back in the first place because she’d finally gotten the missing piece, the way to  _ save  _ the victims of a sinister plot. She hadn’t come back for him. What kind of gross mammal was she? Why wasn’t anyone  _ calling her on it? _

She didn’t know what to do. Sometimes she looked in the mirror and wondered who that was, how she had managed to fit into Judy Hopps’ clothes, Judy Hopps’ social circle, Judy Hopps’ life. She felt like she was  _ pounding on glass,  _ trying to break out of her own head, even if it were only just to warn everyone that some  _ fake  _ had taken over a life she didn’t deserve, and she couldn’t  _ breathe,  _ and the world was slipping — no, that was her, she was slipping — everything was quiet, dots gathering at the corners of her eyes, was she dying? She was dying, or, maybe she wasn’t, maybe she was just crashing into herself, she couldn’t breathe,  _ couldn’t breathe,  _ so she did the one thing that kept pulsing through her mind and found the number of the mammal she trusted most in the whole world.

“If I have to look at  _ one more  _ blood spatter picture,” Nick said as a greeting, “I’m going to find the biggest, wettest, reddest bucket of paint I can find and dunk Winschell’s head in it.” A pause. “Carrots? I can hear you breathing and I have  _ caller ID.”  _ Another pause, and a softer query. “Judy? What’s going on?”

“Please jus-t talk to m-me,” she gasped. It felt weird because her lips were numb, and she was having trouble keeping her phone up to her ear, so she lay down on her side on the wolf-sized tank and felt like an idiot, her paw shaking as she held the device flat against her ear.

“Sure, I can do that. My ex always said my mouth was my least attractive quality, but I can do that. What do you want me to talk about?”

“Tell m-me ab-bout your classes.” Why wouldn’t her mouth work? Why were hard syllables so difficult? “B-lood?”

His voice was soft and rhythmic when he answered, “Yeah. I swear to you, Carrots, this curriculum is outdated. Even  _ I  _ know blood spatter analysis is hardly helpful. But you try bringing that up to fusty old  _ Professor Winschell.  _ You know, I doubt he has a Ph.D.”

She listened to Nick rant about academy life in that snappy, sarcastic, degrading manner she had initially found so repugnant, and took comfort in it. Nick was safe. Nick was good. His voice was great — if she ever found his ex, she’d smack them for saying that about Nick’s mouth — and she figured he could probably talk her out of a coma. He certainly had enough words for it.

Her breath evened out and she sighed shakily. She weighed the pros and cons of trying to get up and realized that if she didn’t succeed she’d probably drop her phone into the toilet below, so she stayed where she was, hoping her body would stop twitching soon. The sigh prompted Nick to ask, “Feeling better?”

“Yes, I think so,” she told him. “I’m still a little dizzy, but...thanks, Nick.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, but I probably should.” She sighed again, softly. The only thing to fear was fear itself, right? “I don’t know what came over me. One minute everything was fine, and then suddenly I couldn’t breathe and I felt like I was dying. It was weird.”

“What were you thinking at the time?”

“Just...I don’t know. It’s kind of a blur. Rivers and Wolfard were talking about that time between when we found Emmitt Otterton and the time we figured out that it was Dawn Bellwether, and…”

She couldn’t make the rest come out. Nick, predictably, came to the exact wrong conclusion. “Want me to get Finnick and his new boys to rough them up a little? I’m sure he wants to burn the last couple of favors he owes me, and he likes you. As much as he can  _ like  _ anybody.”

“No! Nick, it wasn’t like they were being mean. They were — why is everyone okay with me?”

“What kind of question is that,” he asked quietly. “Is someone giving you trouble? Is Jimmy? Whoever’s feeding you garbage-”

“I don’t understand how mammals can like me after what I said. How anyone can trust me — how  _ you  _ can trust me — why doesn’t everyone hate me? I—”

The whole thing came to a screeching, shuddering halt. She couldn’t say it. It wasn’t even true. She didn’t hate herself. She liked herself, overall. She was fun, she was smart, she had accomplishments to be proud of. It was just that she didn’t understand why anyone  _ else  _ would like her. It wasn’t that she hated herself, it was just that she didn’t deserve all the nice things she had. The career, the friends, the sweet, adoring boyfriend. Those aspects of life should be reserved for someone better. Someone who made the world a better place. Lamely, she finished, “I don’t get it.”

Nick let out air on the other end of the line, but she wasn’t sure if it was a sigh or not. There was a heavy, scary pause, and then he said, “I don’t get it either. Why would anyone appreciate someone who saved Zootopia from a terrorist? Why would anyone forgive your honest mistake? Why would anyone believe your sincere apologies? It’s a complete mystery. The world may never know why someone who truly believes in the goodness of mammals would be afforded that same courtesy.”

“I screwed up, Nick. I screwed up so badly.  _ You  _ walked away from me. How come no one else did?”

At this, he laughed. “I thought we already established that I’m 40% drama and 40% caffeine. I had a snit fit and I didn’t want to swallow my pride and hear you out. Frankly, Carrots, I’m concerned that you’re trying to sneak in and steal my crown. There’s only room for one drama queen in this relationship, and it’s me, so don’t even bother.”

There were lots of things to say, but she didn’t feel like saying them. It was like arguing with a brick wall sometimes. Nobody could see that she wasn’t really the Judy Hopps they knew, and she didn’t want to pick a fight. It was weird to argue against her own worth when she’d spent so much time trying to prove herself. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted from the beginning? Why couldn’t she appreciate it? Why was she so  _ dumb? _ Instead of pursuing that line of thinking, she said, “That’s only 80% of you.”

“Yeah, the rest is caustic commentary,” he said flatly. “Behold. Your best friend.”

“You  _ are  _ my best friend,” she told him, and when she pushed herself up, she wasn’t shaking so much anymore. “I have to go back out there and put a good face on for Rivers and Wolfard, but...thank you. Really.”

“Go back out — where  _ are  _ you, Carrots?”

“On the toilet tank in the bathroom at the  _ Fanged Barrel.”  _ She pushed herself off and landed roughly on her feet, something that usually didn’t happen. Still a little clumsy, then. “I didn’t really have another place to go. At least it’s a single.”

“Toilet tank, bathroom, barrel,” he muttered. “Damn, there’s a joke in there somewhere, but I can’t find it.”

“Well, let’s pretend you told it and I laughed,” she suggested. “Bye, Nick. I lo-” Would he find that weird? It was standard in Bunnyburrow to love freely, to use the word on friends and lovers and family, but so much about Zootopia was awkward and sectioned off. You could  _ love  _ your mother, and you could  _ love  _ your romantic partner, but you could only  _ like  _ your friends. She didn’t want to make Nick uncomfortable again. “You’re the best friend I could ask for.”

“I love you too, Fluff,” he said easily. “Yawl take care now, y’hear?”

By the time her brain rebooted, Nick was long gone from the conversation, but she still felt the little bubble in her chest, annoyance at his  _ terrible  _ attempt at her regional accent and excitement at what he’d said. Kithood had been lonely, and adulthood, lonelier still, but Nick loved her. He was training hard so he could have her back, and he’d played along until she could breathe again. Maybe he was only saying what she needed to hear, but if so, it still meant that he cared enough about her to do it.

It was time to go face the music, but she wasn’t going to do it looking like some scruffy lop-eared weirdo, so she climbed up to the sink to wash her face and paws. She could do this. She could get through this. Judy Hopps didn’t submit to anyone, not terrorists, not speciesist taunts, and definitely not to her own brain.

* * *

The purple skirt felt awkward brushing against her thighs, its ruffled layers making it thick and annoying, but Jimmy’s eyes lit up at the sight of her, so that was thirty bucks well spent, right? Even the old off-white blouse itched a little, but it was worth it. Jimmy looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing in the world, and after her weird little breakdown in the bathroom, it was nice to feel wanted like that.

She’d get used to it. If he wanted her to wear pretty clothes, she could do that. It was hardly a sacrifice, and at least in skirts like this, she could do a high kick if she had to, albeit at the loss of her modesty. She was an ex-cheerleader. It shouldn’t have felt so weird. So she put the vague feeling of wrongness out of her mind and ran to him, cheeks pulled into a smile. It was so easy to feel good with him.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come. You didn’t text me at all last night,” he said, something like disapproval in his voice. But that wasn’t right, she was sure; he knew that she kept her word when she gave it, and she’d promised to meet him at ten sharp. He was probably just teasing.

“I kind of...had a little problem when I was out with Wolfard and Rivers, and I just crashed when I got home. I thought about you, though,” she soothed, scritching his sides just above the hem of his pants under his nice shirt. He was always so put-together.

He looked over her carefully, touching her tenderly in all the places she might have gotten hurt, which was adorable. “Did they do anything to you?”

“Only if you consider being really nice  _ doing something.  _ I just...you know I struggle sometimes — I got a little freaked out when they were talking about the Night Howler scare. But I called Nick, and he talked me down.”

“...Right. Nick.”

“Yeah, he knew what to say,” she chirped, maybe overly optimistic, but she wanted her boyfriend to get along with her best friend. They hadn’t met yet, but she hoped it could happen soon.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it,” he asked with a short sigh. He looked to the side. “He always has something to say about you. And most of it is cruel, from what you’ve told me.”

“Is that really how it sounds?” She didn’t know what to do with her limbs, or her eyes, or anything else. She gripped the edge of her skirt, resisting the urge to tug it down a little further. “Nick is my best friend; he’s one of the most important mammals in my life, and that’s not going to change without a darn good reason. Sure, he’s a little sarcastic, but he’s not cruel. I mean, he’s not cruel to me. Not anymore...he’s never said anything I didn’t need to hear, at any rate.”

“Are you sure about that, Judith? From the moment he met you, he’s been telling you what’s wrong with you. I just want to make sure you understand — it doesn’t have to be like that. There’s so much  _ right  _ with you. I’m not trying to pass judgment on someone I don’t know, I just...can you promise me that you’ll keep yourself safe? That if  _ anyone  _ tries to hurt you, whether it’s Nick or anyone else, you’ll make sure to stop it?”

“Come on, what do you take me for,” she asked, giving him a smile as a peace offering. He was just trying to look after her, just like Nick. It irked her a little to be seen as so socially incompetent that she couldn’t tell when someone was actively trying to hurt her, but she couldn’t deny that she’d been out of sorts lately. Emotionally stable mammals didn’t break down in public bathrooms or stop recognizing themselves in the mirror. Maybe Jimmy just knew what she was going through and wanted to have her back. “I’m not blind to my own faults, Jimmy, but I’m not blind to anyone else’s, either.”

He kissed her on the forehead and his dark tone lightened. “Then I’m glad you had your friend on standby...but you know you could have called me, right? I would have dropped everything.”

And just like that, she felt guilty again. Why  _ hadn’t  _ she called Jimmy? He was her boyfriend. He had never done anything to hurt her, and he had given her every reason to trust him without question. He was also  _ in the city.  _ Why had she bothered Nick? She looked at her feet. “I’m sorry, I was just in a bad place and I knew Nick wouldn’t try to nice the problem away.”

Because ultimately, Jimmy was right: Nick wasn’t a nice mammal. He was actually a pretty big jerk, when he wanted to be, and he didn’t hide his cynicism, at least not from Judy. Jimmy was helping her, steering her back on track when she said something dumb or rude, but he was always nice about it. Nick didn’t have stars in his eyes when he looked at her; she hadn’t wanted to be validated, she had just wanted to be pulled out.

And Nick was her best friend. She trusted him. She trusted Jimmy, too, but it was different in a way she couldn’t quantify or describe. Nick was Nick.

Orchard Square hosted the sweet little market in the heart of the Happytown spiral, and Judy was happy to spend a few hours there stocking up on supplies every other Sunday, at least when her schedule allowed it. Not that she had much to stock up on; she was a terrible cook and too busy to learn, so mostly she bought freeze-dried fruits and protein bars in bulk.

She took Jimmy’s paw and tugged him into the Square. They’d never actually shopped together. It would be nice to experience the high energy of the market together, and it would be nice to have his help carrying stuff home, too. Some boxes tended to be unwieldy, no matter how strong she was. “Come on, I want to show you around.”

Jimmy indulged her, following obediently as she dragged him from one stall to the next, sampling honey and veggies and promising to come back with cash next time. He wasn’t quite enjoying himself — she knew that much — so although she could have spent another hour or two chatting with the local growers, she decided to skip out early with her usual box of protein bars and bags of dried fruit.

“Oh,” he said suddenly, peering into her box as they entered an alley that would get them back to the Grand Pangolin Arms more quickly. “I wondered why you were so thin.”

“I’m not,” she protested, not necessarily offended, but not happy with the assessment either. It was true that the bunny ideal was a little plumper than Judy could manage with her active lifestyle, but she wasn’t unhealthy.

“You are,” he returned, scooping her box out of her paws and picking her up. She felt like a sack of potatoes tossed over his shoulder headfirst as he added, “Skinny-Minnie! I could carry three of you in a backpack!”

“Put me down, Jimmy,” she laughed, kicking her legs ineffectively. The problem with being so well-trained was that she worried about excessive force in mundane situations. Jimmy was soft. What if she hurt him? He smacked her rear as she kicked again and she squealed. She hated that, but...it had probably been an accident.  _ Jimmy was soft.  _ She was squirming, and he’d probably just tried to get a better grip on her. She felt wrong — trapped — but there was nothing to fight against, no threat, just a teasing snatch by her boyfriend and a too-careless shift of weight.

“I said  _ put me down,”  _ she demanded anyway, because if nothing else, that needed to happen. Maybe it was silly, but being upside-down like that reminded her too much of the Rainforest, being chased by Mr. Manchas, falling — calculating, trying to save Nick, hoping she didn’t get trapped and hanged by the vines, trying not to imagine the sound of her neck snapping — she didn’t ever talk about it, because it didn’t need to be talked about, but she couldn’t completely shake it off. Maybe being tossed around by somebody she trusted  _ would  _ help, immersion therapy or whatever they called it, but not before she’d thought about it and agreed to it. She felt dangerously out of control, and along with that usually came the powerful urge to punch the threat.

Except there was no threat to fight. Only someone who liked her, who set her down with infinite care. She resolved to explain it to him when her heart slowed down and she caught her breath.

“I was going to save this for another day, but I want to give you something,” he told her, getting down onto his knees in front of her. Judy wondered how someone as neatly-pressed as Jimmy Brownpaw could tolerate even the  _ idea  _ of dirt on his slacks. She reached out her paw to pet his cheek, but he took her paw before it reached him and took a box out of the bag. “Close your eyes.”

She did so. If she was right, it was some kind of jewelry, which wasn’t her style, but if he was giving her gifts, it was at least a sweet gesture. She hadn’t told him one way or the other. She felt him wrap something around her wrist, and it was weirdly thick, but she still didn’t peek; she kept her eyes firmly closed until he said, “Okay, you can open them.”

On her forearm was...what was it? A bracelet, maybe? It was a strip of cork leather, buckled into itself just below her elbow and halfway down her forearm. It was pretty enough, with flowers tooled into another, longer leather strip glued or otherwise fastened in an X pattern to some kind of badge on the outside, and the buckles were probably real silver. At least it held well and wouldn’t get in her way if she chose to wear it.

“It’s...um, thank you for the gift,” she said finally, hoping that he read gratitude in her voice. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate it, she just...didn’t see when she’d ever have a reason to wear it.

He grinned and kissed the back of her paw. “It’s kind of a big deal in Skyeview culture. Traditionally I’d give you my family’s symbol on a necklace, but that would get in the way of your work, wouldn’t it? It says that I’m fond of you. That I want you in my life. That I’m committed. Because I am, Judith. All of those things are true. I really hope you’ll wear it always.”

Well, she couldn’t say no, could she? Not after a statement like that. She wanted him in her life, too, and she thought maybe a commitment wouldn’t be too bad. He was charming, smart, and interested in her. She liked him an awful lot, and although she didn’t really understand what he saw in her, she was usually glad that he liked her back. They still hadn’t found a position they could have  _ intercourse  _ in, but they had found ways around that, and he didn’t seem to mind too much if they used their paws or toys or whatever else. She’d get used to the extra weight around her arm. And the purple background of the badge  _ did  _ complement her eyes nicely…

“I will. I’ll only take it off to shower.”

“Ha!” He stood again and gathered her into a hug. Again, she was struck by how much bigger than she he was; taller than Nick, for sure, and not quite as wide as Gideon but definitely stocky. “I was worried for a second that you wouldn’t want it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear jewelry, and, well...I know it’s a little soon to say I’m committed to you and  _ only  _ you, but I am.”

“And is that…” She swallowed, feeling a weight and not sure what it was. “Is that what you want from me?”

“Yes...but it’s not what I’m asking. I’m not asking anything. I want you to be happy, Judith, and I hope you can be happy with  _ me,  _ but if you can’t, that’s — I’m — truly, I just care about you. That’s all.”

“I care about you too. I’m as committed to this as you are, I think,” she admitted with a smile. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, but she didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on him. Not only had they not known each other very long, but she still felt...wrong. Artificial. It was his choice to be with someone who didn’t deserve him, to commit to her after she’d done so much damage, and after the way her parents had tried to stifle her, she’d never dream of trying to take someone else’s choice away. But she didn’t want him to feel like he  _ had  _ to be with her, either, and a commitment wasn’t a life sentence. It could be revoked if he acquired new information.

“Then,” he said solemnly, glancing at her forgotten groceries, “it’s my duty as your committed partner to inform you that your diet is  _ terrible,  _ and spoil you rotten with real food. Do you cook?”

“I would, if cooking weren’t an extreme sport with high chances of fire.” She snorted, and hid her face in her paws. “Growing up I was on the mechanic crew, so I didn’t get to learn much about food except how to eat it as quickly as possible. And I’ve just been too busy ever since to dedicate time to learning.”

“I’m going to help you fix that,” he decided. Nose in the air, Jimmy said, “Come along, Judith. I’m going to feed you healthy food and you’re going to like it.”

The only food she could say she definitely liked was carrots, and she didn’t really dislike anything except plain olives, so chances were pretty good that she’d eat whatever he made. She stooped to pick up her box and replied, “You’re probably right.”

“Here,” he said, holding out his paws. “Let me carry that for you.”

“And risk you chucking it in a dumpster?” She started walking and awkwardly bumped him with her hip. “No thanks, smart guy.”


	4. Perception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little poison goes a long way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the real world, it went the other way: the abuser bought her own collar, put a name on it, went around saying she belonged to the person with that name without asking if they were okay with it.
> 
> They weren't. There was social backlash, as you might expect. This story's much kinder.

Nick blinked several times, rubbed his eyes dramatically, and asked, “Are you a pod mammal?”

“If I were, would I tell you?”

She sat down across from him in the academy dining hall and looked around idly while he grinned happily at her. She hadn’t been back to the ZPA since her graduation, but it didn’t look much different than it had during her two-year stint there. Really, the only thing that had changed was Judy herself. It was like trying to visit Bunnyburrow High: she hadn’t grown physically, but she didn’t fit anymore. Nick looked like he belonged, in his gray ZPA shirt, but he looked like he belonged everywhere, even in his eyeball-stabbing Tommy Bapawma shirts. It was the way he held himself, she decided. She aspired to hold herself that way too, entirely confident but not brash. Self-assured, not self-involved.

Nick cocked his head and gestured up and down at her. “I didn’t think you even owned a dress, Fluff, let alone one that short. And are those flounce sleeves? Did your grandma send you that?”

“It may be from a thrift store, and it may be outdated,” she retorted, “but the fact you know what these weird sleeves are called speaks  _ volumes,  _ Piberius.”

“HA. Because your sleeves are  _ voluminous.”  _ Judy wanted to faceplant onto the table at this, but she valiantly kept up her smile, even if she could feel it bordering on creepy. He was only doing it to rile her up anyhow, which he proved when he said, “You look like a walking carrot cupcake.”

“And you look like a walking carrot,” she said to him, hoping it didn’t sound as weak as it felt. “Maybe I should start calling  _ you  _ Carrots instead.”

“Beware, the big bad bunny, come to gobble up innocent foxes,” he exclaimed, putting his wrist to his forehead in the stereotypical “fainting damsel” fashion. “Who shall be my dashing hero when my hero is the one who wants to destroy me!?”

She smiled triumphantly. “I hear Finnick has some favors to burn.”

“Yeowch, Officer. Police brutality. I am well and truly slain.”

Judy bit her lip. That wasn’t so funny. There was a reason she had visited personally instead of doing their usual video call, and it wasn’t a pleasant reason, but she wanted Nick to hear it from her first. “Nick, I have some bad news. I didn’t want you to find out through the grapevine or on TV, because reporters always find a way to spin everything.”

All traces of joviality cleared from his face, leaving him serious — an image of the officer she hoped he would still want to become. “What happened, Judy?”

“There was...at Precinct 7, there was a double murder. Three officers were involved in the deaths of a babydoll sheep and a red panda. Both teenage girls. They were romantically involved. They’re...they’re not calling it murder, but that’s what it was, I know it. And the officers at that station are trying to cover it up — unsuccessfully, thankfully. But it happened, and there’s no taking it back, and I don’t want you to think I’m keeping the bad parts of the job from you-”

“Stop for a second.  _ Breathe.” _

Judy nodded and took a deep, shaking breath. She hadn’t even known that she was shaking. It made sense, though; it was still bothering her, a deep ache in her gut. There was another tic against her: the realities of the job she’d chosen weren’t pleasant. It wasn’t just her own neck on the line if things went badly. Trigger-happy cops were real (if much less prevalent now that the academy ran for two years instead of six months), and they did real damage. In the case of the teenage couple, the likely culprit was regressivist views and power-drunkenness, and their families were already bearing the worst part. Hearing traditionalist pundits spread moral panic, blaming anything they could think of to make the trio of murderers look fresh as daisies. According to Sean Fleecer from Flocks News, the two girls had been deviants, little more than street trash who attacked the officers without any prompting at all.

(Cam footage showed otherwise. The sheep had certainly attacked the officers, once they’d sent her girlfriend into a seizure with two rounds of tasering, and for her trouble she’d gotten her skull bashed in with a baton.)

Nick grasped her paws over the table and squeezed, looking at her fondly. “I’ve lived in Zootopia my whole life. I grew up in  _ Happytown,  _ albeit before they redlined the shit out of it. It’s probably worse now. Point is, Hopps, I know about police brutality. I know how bad it gets.  _ I know what I’m getting myself into.  _ Yeah, it does take a little mental gymnastics to voluntarily insert myself into a corrupt institution, but if nobody bothers to try to change it like you are, then it will stay corrupt, and get worse. I know you’re trying your best to be a good cop now, and I wouldn’t be surprised if this is making you think about quitting.”

“I’m not thinking that,” she said stubbornly, looking at the table. Because she wasn’t. She was just feeling guilty about not at least considering the idea.

“I’m your backup. Well. I  _ will  _ be your backup. I don’t believe in the institution, or in the government, or in the legal system as it is now. And I don’t believe in the inherent goodness of mammals the way you do. But I believe in you, and you believe in me, and I want to be part of your pack. I want to be whatever kind of force for good you think I can be. It’s what I’ve wanted since I was a kit.” In her peripheral vision, she saw him shrug. Felt it in her paws, too. “I don’t really have it in me to hope for the best anymore, but I’ve seen you bend the world to your whims. When they said you were too small and weak, you took out a rhinoceros just to prove you could. When they said you were only good for writing parking tickets, you found the exact right partner and solved a case their top officers had been stuck on for  _ weeks.  _ When the world tells you that you’re not good enough, you tell them to fuck off and get out of your way. Now, because I know you, I know that you want to fight corruption. So I don’t have to hope when I’ve got proof that things can be different. Change isn’t just a nebulous concept. Change starts with  _ you.” _

“It starts with  _ us,”  _ she replied, and then instinct reared its weird, ugly head. Before she could think about it, she had pulled Nick’s paws up to her chin and rubbed her scent glands all over his knuckles.

“What the — did you just  _ mark  _ me?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, mortified, practically throwing his paws at him. “It’s a bunny thing! I know it’s kind of taboo here in the city, I completely forgot. Back in Bunnyburrow, we — my best friend Sharla always smelled like me — I do it to my stuff, too, because living with 300 siblings means it isn’t yours unless you chin it-”

“I’m not mad, Carrots, but please, do, go on. This is  _ hysterical,”  _ he told her, laughing impolitely. It was the same kind of laugh he’d used at the DMV, a laugh at her expense, but at least this time she deserved it.

Sullenly, she said, “I’m  _ sorry.” _

“I’m not. This is gonna be  _ great.  _ Next time Wentworth asks me what’s up with “my” bunny, I’ll let her get a whiff of my paw and then walk out.  _ Flounce  _ out, even.”

“Yeah, that’s the Nick Wilde I know and love. The consummate troll.” She rolled her eyes, but she already felt better. Nick usually had that effect on her, though she still wasn’t completely sure why, given his penchant for digging under her fur until he found bruises she hadn’t known were there. Adult friendship was just weird, she supposed. “What is it with you and my sleeves, anyway? They look nice on me. Jimmy likes them too, so, bonus.”

“Oh. You’re wearing that for  _ him.  _ Now it all makes sense. You’re not a pod mammal, you’re twitterpated. Well, this puts a damper on my plans to sweep you off your feet and marry you and...what comes after marriage, again?” He pretended to count off on his fingers. “Ah, right. Marry you and then get a divorce because...do you want to be the cheater, or should I?”

“Yeah, all right, love is terrible and can’t last, Nick’s a cynic, Judy’s a dumb bunny, tra-la-la. I’m not blind. I know love and commitment aren’t the same thing; just look at my parents. They’ve been together so long you can hardly tell they fell in love ten years after they settled for each other. But Jimmy and I have  _ made  _ commitments, Nick. Look, he gave me his family symbol.”

She didn’t notice Nick’s expression until she looked up at him after pulling up her sleeve. His eyes were locked onto the purple badge, his ears flat against his head, his mouth hanging open slightly with his teeth pressed together. She lowered her sleeve again, confused and — to her shame — more than a little unnerved. “Nick?”

“I can’t believe it,” he said flatly.

“What, that this isn’t some...some  _ fling?” _

“That you would make that kind of commitment.”

His voice was very quiet, tightly controlled, but Judy wasn’t so reserved. She couldn’t be. Nick was her best friend; surely he didn’t think…? Did he? “For your information,  _ Slick,  _ I’m perfectly capable of committing. Maybe it’s unorthodox, but just because most bunnies settle for less doesn’t mean I have to.”

“Yeah, there’s nothing  _ settled  _ about letting him tell you how to dress,” he said snidely.

“There’s nothing wrong with it either!”

“Next you’ll be telling me he’s telling you what to eat, too,” he challenged. She glared at him, anger hot in her chest,  _ daring  _ him to make a nasty comment about Jimmy helping her learn about and appreciate food, how to calculate nutritional value and calorie content. She’d already gained an eighth of a pound since they’d begun eating together, and pretty soon they were going to trade off nights cooking! Nick’s face darkened further. “Oh my God, he is.”

“He’s helping me.  _ Voluntarily.  _ I didn’t have to blackmail  _ him  _ into anything,” she snipped, and immediately hated herself. But it all came rolling out anyway, all the nasty little things she’d never said, all the dark little thoughts she had confessed to Jimmy on a restless night, all the things he’d been  _ appalled  _ at. “I should have expected you to judge me. You’ve been doing it since we met, haven’t you? First I was a cute little stuffed animal, then I was a dumb bigot with baseless fears, and now...are you gonna call me a predslut too, Nick? Or is that fruit too low-hanging to bother with?”

Nick put his paws up. “Whoa, calm down-”

_ “Don’t  _ tell me to  _ calm down,”  _ she said angrily, shooting out of her seat. To her horror, she could feel tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes, settling into the fur around her nose — her voice quavered, her paws shook — she  _ hated this,  _ she  _ hated  _ that she was arguing with her best friend, but she couldn’t stop. “Jimmy was right. I can always trust  _ Nick Wilde  _ to tell me exactly what’s wrong with me. I’ve been so guilty for so long, it was easy to ignore that you were just as much of a bigot as I was. So hit me. What  _ else  _ about me disgusts you?”

“You’re not disgusting, Judy, I just don’t like seeing you  _ degrade  _ yourself,” he protested. He didn’t stand, but she could hear the grating of his claws in the soft wood of the cafeteria table.

The world went soundless, except for a high-pitched fuzz in her ears, bad radio through bad speakers. Her heart was racing, but she deflated, her ears drooping down her back, her shoulders hunching over. So this was it, huh? This was what he really thought. “I guess it’s good to know early. You can decide now whether partnering with someone like me will degrade you, too.”

“No, Judy, wait-”

But she could be quick when she wanted to be, and she couldn’t block out the anguish in his voice, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t walk out.

* * *

It wasn’t natural to go running to Jimmy, although it should have been. Her first instinct was to go isolate and clean her tiny apartment as violently as possible, her second instinct was to run to back to Nick, and her third instinct was to seek refuge with Félinia, who made the best pav bhaji in the city and mothered the whole apartment building with relentless enthusiasm.

She was kind of mad at Jimmy, too. Back at the academy, it hadn’t felt like  _ her  _ words, but  _ his,  _ and they all made sense, but they didn’t feel right. The anger slow-roasted in her stomach as she tried to figure out what had  _ happened.  _ As a rule, she didn’t lose herself like that. She just wasn’t that volatile. Passionate, yes, and stubborn as heck when she wanted to be, but not the kind of hair-trigger mammal that would stomp off like that.

She wanted to go back. She couldn’t go back. Being with Jimmy wasn’t degrading. If anything, what she had with Jimmy made her feel  _ real  _ for the first time in a long time. When they were together, there wasn’t anything else; there wasn’t speciesism, there wasn’t pain, there wasn’t police brutality and murder and the kind of garbage she hadn’t wanted to believe was true. She didn’t need to recognize herself in the mirror, because Jimmy described her as a mammal she wanted to be. He’d never let her down — he’d never shamed her — even though she didn’t want to talk about it, he was the right mammal to sit in silence with, so at Savanna Central, she took the Meadows line instead of the Happytown line, ignoring the vibrating of her phone.

It wasn’t until she reached his door that Judy realized he might not even be home yet. What if she ran into his neighbor? She wasn’t in the right place to—

The door opened. Of course, Jimmy would have smelled her in the hallway.

She fell into his arms, angry with herself, angry with Nick, trying to hide her tears because Jimmy always said he liked how strong she was. But he knew. He always knew. Gathering her up in a gentle squeeze, pulling her inside, and shutting the door behind her, he asked, “What happened, Judith?”

“I just…” She nuzzled his neck, breathing in his scent, trying to forget how similar it was to Nick’s. “I just had a fight with Nick. He said some — some pretty horrible things, about you and me. He doesn’t like that we’re dating; he never has. I don’t think he’s okay with interspecies relationships, and...but I was just as bad. I accused him of being a bigot.”

“Maybe he is one,” Jimmy said carefully, running one single claw along the shell of her ear. “You told me the story of how you met. He acted like a bigot then, too.”

“I don’t think...yeah, he put me down and used speciesist insults, but — it’s not his fault! You’re a fox too, you know how badly he must have been treated!”

“By that logic, you get a pass too. Your species  _ still _ gets called dumb by predators and prey alike because of ancient misconceptions, and let’s not even go into why those stereotypes stuck around. Have you forgiven yourself yet for the mistakes that keep you up at night?”

She didn’t want him to be right, because Nick was her _best friend,_ and he was going to be her _partner,_ and maybe…he had a point about species, and sure, Nick _had_ been a bit of a bully when they met. But it wasn’t the same...she had been _crazy_ back there. She had misinterpreted, that was all. “Maybe I just misheard. Maybe I’m just making a big deal out of nothing. You know bunnies, always so emotional-”

“Did you get  _ that  _ from him, too?”

Judy blinked at Jimmy’s sour tone. “I mean...it’s just something everyone says.”

“It’s not true, though.” He peeled her away from his chest and went down on his knees, taking her paws in one of his. He reached up with the other to brush away errant tears. “Your emotions are valuable. You don’t have to be ashamed of who you are, Judith, or  _ what  _ you are. I know you like Nick, but I really don’t like how he treats you. He’s been talking down to you and toying with your feelings since you met, and now he was so hurtful about  _ our  _ relationship that you came home in tears. What kind of friend is that?”

She warred between anger and sadness, because Nick was her best friend and she didn’t want to hear anything negative about him, but after this afternoon, she couldn’t help but think that Jimmy wasn’t wrong, either. “What are you suggesting?”

“Just that maybe you should think about how much value you actually ascribe to what he says, is all. I’d never ask you to stop seeing him or to give up  _ anything  _ you love. I just hate seeing you like this. You deserve more respect than you’re getting. First it was that horrible affair with Precinct 7, and now  _ this...  _ you deserve to be happy.”

_ I want to be,  _ she thought as she trembled under his paws. She missed being likable. She missed liking herself — somehow, she couldn’t convince herself anymore that she  _ did —  _ and she wanted to be happy. Even if it meant letting Nick say such hurtful things to her face, because he was her best friend. Even if it meant getting punched in the stomach a million times just so it wouldn’t hurt anymore.

She wanted to breathe it all out along the crisp press of his button-up, to keep talking until she could make sense of everything, but none of the right words would come out, so she breathed him in instead. Steady breaths, steady heart.

“I’m taking you to Skyeview to meet my family,” he announced into her ear. His breath was smooth and warm and sent a shiver through her. “Next month.”

“I can’t just pick up and leave, Jimmy,” she countered, but it was hard, because she wanted to meet his family and she wanted to get her head on straight.

“Why not? You haven’t had a vacation since I met you six months ago. Tell your boss you need a week off.”

“That’s not how it works-”

“That’s how it  _ could  _ work if you wanted to take care of yourself,” he said sharply. He immediately softened, though, and kissed her collarbone. “I’m sorry, Judith, I’m still annoyed at Nick for hurting you. I shouldn’t have snapped. If you don’t want to talk to your boss, I will.”

She scowled. “You can’t  _ force  _ me to take a vacation with you.”

“That’s true, I can’t. And I won’t. But you need this. You need time away, and...I want to treat you. I see you drowning, Judith. Let me take care of you. Just for a week. And if it doesn’t work, I’ll never suggest it again.” He hugged her so hard she gasped; she could feel his heart, such an intimate thing. “Sometimes it feels like you’re drifting away. Let me make you solid.”

She nodded against his chest. Her voice was muffled when she said, “Make me real. Just like the Velveteen Rabbit.”

“I can do that, Judith,” he replied into her headfur. “What’s mine is yours, even my heart.”

* * *

> Carrots
> 
> Judy
> 
> I don’t know what I said
> 
> I’m a dumb fox
> 
> But I love you
> 
> So whatever it was I’m sorry
> 
> I’m sorry for yesterday.
> 
> I’m not in a great place right now.
> 
> No shit
> 
> I don’t want you to hate Jimmy.
> 
> Or me.
> 
> You’re my best friend. I love you.
> 
> But I love him too and I think it’s mutual.
> 
> I won’t let you devalue that.
> 
> The sigil was unexpected
> 
> But if you’re happy you’re happy
> 
> I am.
> 
> Btw I have a surprise for you.
> 
> I need a surprise like I need an enema
> 
> Ew, I don’t need to know your kinks.
> 
> ...in that I don’t need one
> 
> It’s weird your mind went there
> 
> It’s a weird thing to say.
> 
> And I’m still not telling you what it is.
> 
> You’ll love it though.
> 
> No surprises
> 
> Carrots
> 
> Carrots
> 
> Fine
> 
> I’ll ruin a surprise for you
> 
> You’re getting a hot plate for your birthday
> 
> In 6 months
> 
> Wow, talk about dedication
> 
> If this surprise doesn’t include party clowns…

* * *

Ruth Wilde wasn’t a hard vixen to find, if you knew what you were looking for. Judy was determined to reunite Nick with his mother before he graduated, because as much as he pretended he was fine on his own, she knew how to spot wistfulness when he talked about his family. There was nothing Judy could do about John Wilde, the father who’d died when Nick was seven, but Ruth was alive and well in a small apartment building on the outskirts of Tundratown.

Nick would never have thought to look here. Judy hoped that wasn’t the point.

She wasn’t on the job, so Judy’s clothing was loose, a combination of Jimmy’s favored billowy blouses and her favored fitted jeans that could be both stylish and practical. She wasn’t sure how she should look when she came face to face with the vixen who had raised her best friend; according to him, she’d been a heartless grifter before meeting John, but Nick alleged that he’d learned all his hustling tricks at the hem of her dress, so Judy had to assume that Ruth had a big heart, too.

Or maybe he was right. What if Judy made things worse? Maybe Ruth would hate her for hurting Nick, or maybe Nick would hate her for following through, and this was a really terrible idea, but she knocked anyway because she was a bunny on a mission.

“Just a minute,” called a smooth voice from inside the apartment. Judy thought she could detect the slightest hint of an accent, though she couldn’t place it. The door opened and a lovely-looking vixen peered out at her, looking somewhat suspicious.

Ruth Wilde looked like her son, with dark paws and orange fur and bright green eyes. It was almost uncanny, and unbidden, Judy’s mind conjured up images of Nick in an old-fashioned dress like the one Ruth was wearing. Judy put on her biggest, friendliest smile and said, “Mrs. Wilde? I’m here about your son.”

It was like a switch had been shut off. Ruth drooped in the doorway, her ears going flat and her claws digging into the doorjamb. “What happened to my boy?”

“Oh...I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression, Ma’am.” She stuck out her paw to the vixen, whose face looked a little more hopeful. “I’m Judy Hopps, a friend of his. I’m, uh...I’m here to invite you to his graduation from the Zootopia Police Academy. It’s about a year and a half out, still, but-”

Ruth’s laughter was loud and as wild as her surname. She doubled over, holding her belly, and Judy blinked in confusion. Was she supposed to call an ambulance? Or was this genuine amusement? “Ma’am? Are you okay?”

“For a second,” gasped Ruth, wiping a tear out of her eye, “I almost believed you. Who sent you? Was it Vivian? You’re good, Bunny.”

“I’m not...this isn’t a joke,” Judy said, feeling protective of Nick. What kind of parent didn’t believe in their own child? Well, okay, Judy’s parents hadn’t either, not until she had forced the issue. “He was a vital part of solving the Night Howler case eight months ago, and now he’s studying to become my partner on the force.”

“You’re not joking,” Ruth concluded through her laughter, clearly as sharp as her son. Judy shook her head and Ruth stepped aside. “I think you had better come inside.”

Judy nodded and stepped inside the doorway, shutting the door carefully behind herself before following the vixen into the living room. It was sparse, but it wasn’t as rundown as Judy’s apartment; Ruth had an armchair and a loveseat, both fox-sized, and a nice little electric fireplace. At Ruth’s prompting, Judy took the loveseat and tried to be on her best behavior. She knew that Nick and Ruth hadn’t spoken, or even seen each other, in years, and Nick had glossed over the details of their fight.

Ruth sat down next to her and said, “So you know my Nicholas.”

“He’s my best friend,” she confirmed, fingering the hem of her blouse.

“If you’re the real Judy Hopps,” Ruth reasoned, “then Nicholas is the one who threatened you on television.”

“No, Ma’am, he didn’t threaten me. It was…” How could she put it to make it seem less extreme? Why was everyone making it out to be some big deal? What she had done was  _ far  _ worse than Nick’s tiny outburst. “It was a joke that they caught on camera. The media likes to spin things out of proportion.”

“So in twenty years, he hasn’t grown out of his theatrics?”

Judy grinned. “I don’t know about that. He’s a good actor, if that’s what you mean. He was good enough to convince Dawn Bellwether that he’d gone savage, so I’d say it’s a great thing.”

“And he sent you to me, did he?” Ruth raised an eyebrow, once again showing a resemblance. “Typical.”

“No, he doesn’t know I’m here,” Judy admitted, shaking her head. She wasn’t going to be ashamed of it, though. “All I know is that he left, and that...he kind of feels bad about it? But he’s secretly the most prideful mammal I’ve ever met, so I know he’ll never make the first gesture. I was hoping that you’d be willing to.”

“And you don’t think he’ll be upset that you went behind his back?”

Judy shrugged. She’d already had this conversation with herself. “It’s a small possibility. It’s not like this is out of nowhere; I told him a few weeks ago I was going to find you and invite you to his graduation, but I don’t think he took me completely seriously, so yeah, he might be mad. But we’ve been mad at each other before, and anyway, he should know better than to think I’m not going to follow through on a decision like this. If he  _ does  _ get mad, and he doesn’t forgive me...I’ll be sad, but I decided it’s a trade I’m willing to make. Nick misses you a lot, even if he pretends he doesn’t. He deserves so much better than what the world gave him, what  _ I  _ gave him, so...the least I can do is reunite you, if you’re willing.”

“If he’s receptive, then so am I,” Ruth said, but then she sighed. “I can’t guarantee he will be, though. The last time I saw him, we yelled at each other. He had a point, and at the time, I thought I did, too.”

“That happens in families, though,” Judy replied, thinking about her own parents, and how she had gone through a period of almost a year during college in which she hadn’t talked to them at all. “Nick might be the biggest pessimist I’ve ever met, but-”

“My son, a pessimist?” Ruth chuckled and patted Judy’s shoulder. “Oh, no, Nicholas is a starry-eyed idealist. Always wanting to be  _ good,  _ always willing to follow whoever gives him a speck of positive attention. I taught him how to hide it — took him ages to learn how not to show that anyone got to him — he used to come home crying after school, because he learned of a massacre in history class, or some bully picked on a classmate — he had a real problem over-empathizing. I’m sure by now he’s perfected a hard crust, but that kind of thing doesn’t change. He got it from his father.”

Judy thought about it.

Nick had been awful to her when she’d first come to the city. She usually justified it by saying she had deserved it, but he had gone above and beyond; instead of simply calling her out for her unconscious biases, or just walking away, he’d ridiculed her, told her she’d never achieve her dreams, called her speciesist names, and... _ projected. _

He hadn’t really been talking to her, she realized. He had been talking to his younger self. Justifying his own life choices to a stranger, just because he probably felt bad about them. In the same way that Judy tended to need to fight whatever was threatening her, Nick had needed to be defiant in the face of a reminder of his past. Yeah...she could see it now, actually, and she felt a little silly for just assuming that Nick had grown up a cynic. He hid a lot of real hurt under all his dramatic bravado. If Ruth was right, then Nick’s current cynicism was a defense mechanism; he couldn’t be hurt anymore if he just expected everyone to hurt him from the get-go. His choice to be a hustler made sense, too. Speciesist assumptions couldn’t hurt him if they were true.

(And she had hurt him anyway. With this new information, his forgiveness of her made even less sense.)

No. She wasn’t going to think about that, not right now.

“You’ve known him longer than I have,” Judy assented.

“And somehow I didn’t foresee him becoming  _ best friends  _ with someone like you.”

“A rabbit?”

“No, a  _ cop.”  _ Ruth eyed her, but not warily. “I’ve kept tabs on him, off and on over the years, just to make sure he’s alive. He religiously avoids cops. I believe you when you say you’re friends; I just can’t picture it.”

“Oh! Yeah, I guess without context it’s kind of weird,” Judy acknowledged, “but here, let me show you a photo.”

She got her phone out of her pocket and pulled up her most recent selfie with Nick, the one that had perfectly captured the panic of being pounced on by a sneaky bunny from behind, and when she held up the phone, her sleeves fell away. Ruth’s eyes narrowed as she grabbed at Judy’s wrist. “Did my son give  _ this  _ to you?”

“N-no,” she replied hesitantly, hoping she had nothing to worry about. “No, Nick’s safe from my interspecies deviancy, it’s a gift from my boyfriend.”

Ruth looked from the cuff to Judy’s face and back again, her outward anger gone but replaced by a heavy frown. Finally, she asked, “And you  _ accepted  _ it?”

“It’s not my usual style to wear jewelry, but it’s not obstructive or even that obtrusive, and it seemed really important to him. He said it’s a cultural thing — it shows how high his regard is for me. This buckle is real silver and the badge is, uh, complementary. How could I refuse? It was so thoughtful.”

“It’s a fidelity sigil,” Ruth said flatly.

“A what?” Judy blinked. “Like — like a promise ring?”

“Like public shaming."

Judy laughed, trying to picture sweet, kind Jimmy Brownpaw trying to bring himself to shame anyone. “No, that’s-”

“Every fox grows up hearing about them, but I never thought I’d see it,” Ruth interrupted. Judy shut her mouth. She’d let the vixen say her piece, and then explain the truth afterward. She wanted to get on with Nick’s mother, after all, and Ruth was probably trying to be kind, at least for Nick’s sake if not for Judy’s own. “Canids in general are known for their loyalty, even if foxes aren’t usually welcomed into canid communities. If one of us is unfaithful, or at least not trusted to stay faithful, they might wear a sigil like this one as a warning to everyone else to back off. The mammal who gave you his sigil owns you, and wants the world to know it.”

“No, Ruth, it-”

“I have never seen it on an armband; the strip is supposed to go around your neck so everyone knows who you belong to.”

“But this  _ is _ an armband, and he doesn’t own me!”

“Sure, and maybe it’s a _ perfectly innocent  _ gift.” Ruth’s tone contradicted her words, though. “That doesn’t change history, or the sentiment behind it. You’re  _ his,  _ and no one else can touch you.”

Judy shook her head furiously, trying to find the right words to describe Jimmy. He was respectful, and kind, and never talked down to her — and when she had worried about his putting her on a pedestal, he’d promised her that it wasn’t like that, but reverence was natural, that females were supposed to be in charge. “Jimmy says foxes are matriarchal, so that wouldn’t make sense.”

“We are. That’s a staple of fox cultures. And we value fidelity too, if it’s part of our relationship agreements.”

“I…” she shook her head. “Jimmy’s not like that. He’s kind, and he always asks my permission before cuddling; he would never make a  _ claim.” _

Ruth sighed and said, sounding skeptical, “It  _ may  _ be that he thinks of it as a pre-engagement promise. Fox culture is somewhat hodgepodge due to...let’s say population dispersal issues. Does Nicholas know about this?”

“Yes. When he saw it, he got really angry. He said I was degrading myself. I thought he was upset that I was in an interspecies relationship.”

“That’s just silly,” said Ruth with a snort. “My son’s first crush was a squirrel.  _ Miss Acorn said — Miss Acorn has the prettiest eyes — I wanna marry Miss Acorn when I grow up!” _

Judy tried, and failed, to hold in her giggles, despite the heavy topic. She couldn’t see it. “Nick was hot for teacher?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Then there was nothing, for a long time. It wasn’t until his late teens that he actually looked at another mammal, and that didn’t work out at all, from what I hear. So I can assure you, Judy, if he’s upset about your interspecies relationship, it’s only because he’s being stupid about hiding his own history. It’s far more likely that he’s upset about the cuff.”

“I’ll explain it to him, then,” Judy said with a decisive nod, already feeling ten times better about their fight, and trying not to feel worse about it. “This is a Skyeview badge, not a Zootopia one. I never cheated, and Jimmy’s not like that.”

“None of them are, until it’s too late,” Ruth returned, putting her large paw on Judy’s shoulder and this time leaving it there. “I never thought I’d get to say this, and I wish it were in a different situation, but any friend of my son’s is a friend of mine. You have a place here if you need it.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.” Judy smiled brightly. “I appreciate it.”

She did appreciate it. But she wouldn’t need it.

“And I think you had better call me Mama, because we’re going to be spending a  _ lot  _ of time together.”

“What-”

“Tea. With me. At the Tea Garden, at noon, on Sunday. I want to know  _ everything  _ Nicholas has been up to.”

She put on a sly smile, because she may not have been a con artist, but she sure knew how to make a deal. “I’ll meet you there,  _ Mama,  _ if you promise to call Nick before then. And bring stories. I want to make him wriggle like he made me after he met  _ my  _ parents.”

“Oh, I like you,” said Ruth, all teeth, and Judy couldn’t quite match the predatory expression, but her best approximation made Ruth laugh, so it was good enough.

* * *

Jimmy  _ wasn’t  _ like that. Judy’s sudden nervousness was a side effect of her conversation with Ruth. Whatever the sigil  _ might  _ have meant in the past, it didn’t say anything about her relationship. If he hadn’t even asked her for a lifelong commitment, he couldn’t possibly have a claim on her...although public perception could be a problem, if Nick’s and Ruth’s reactions were to be believed…

There was only one way to test it. After a house call with Rivers, she pulled up her sleeve and asked, “Do you like my new jewelry?”

Rivers seemed to swerve slightly, but Judy realized easily enough that her partner was only pulling into the shoulder. Judy’s stomach sank as Rivers examined the cuff from all angles. It should have been a simple answer. “Depends on what it means. It’s pretty.”

“My boyfriend gave it to me, but I’m not sure  _ what _ it means,” she explained.

“A wolf?”

“A fox.”

Rivers made a funny laughing noise and asked, “Did he say what it was?”

“Jimmy says it’s an important token of affection. Ruth — she’s a fox too, she’s Nick Wilde’s mom — she says it’s a fidelity sigil. What does it mean to you?”

“It’s a piece of jewelry. Could be an innocent cuff. Could be an ownership symbol,” said Rivers, looking out the window. She rubbed the collar around her neck with an interesting half-smile. “Canids like accessories, culturally. A lot of us choose to wear matching collars when we’re married, or at least in it for the long haul. Leather signifies commitment — cork leather now, but once upon a time it was customary to, uh. Skin prey and...sorry, history isn’t always pretty.”

That, Judy knew. “I’m not upset. Please keep going.”

“This is a little shameful, but back when predators ran the world, there were canids, and then there were  _ foxes.  _ We treated them like prey; they ran from us, or did their best to protect themselves from us through trade or just plain begging, and if we caught them we’d brand them with our house symbol. Even after that, when communities became societies and started making laws, one of the first canid laws was that if another mammal brought harm or shame on you, the punishment would be ownership. They just used charms instead of brands.”

“But that’s not what this is,” Judy told Rivers. “It’s a Skyeview tradition.”

“Well, I can’t speak for Skyeview, or foxes for that matter, but I can tell you that at least for wolves and dingos, a modern ownership charm is different from a commitment collar in that only one party wears it, because that party isn’t trusted not to stray. It’s a warning to other mammals to stay away — almost nobody ever uses them anymore, unless it’s a voluntary  _ apology _ for infidelity. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it punishment, but it definitely says you’re not trustworthy. But, as I said, I can’t tell you for sure; it’s usually a collar, not a cuff. Did he tell you why he wanted you to wear it?”

“Nothing more than that it’s important to him,” she replied, feeling sick. Did Jimmy not know? Maybe it was just so different in Skyeview that he had no idea of the social repercussions. After all, he was a relatively recent transplant. He’d only come to Zootopia a couple of years before Judy herself. “But I never cheated. I wouldn’t. I made a promise to be exclusive, even though he never even asked.”

“Then maybe he gave you a pretty cuff to welcome you to the family. Or he’s jealous and possessive, which isn’t exactly an attractive thing in a partner, but that isn’t my business. You’re lucky it’s such a niche tradition, or else you’d probably be getting pretty heavy side-eye from random traditionalists. Has anyone else seen it?”

“Nick and his mom. An ocelot told me it was beautiful on the train...and there was another vixen who asked me if I needed help when I was wearing short sleeves, but I was carrying groceries, so…”

“The truth is, Hopps, it doesn’t matter what  _ he  _ meant by giving it to you; mammals will draw their own conclusions. If you’re okay with being publicly claimed,” Rivers said, “and _ all  _ the connotations therein, then it’s not up to any of us to judge you. But if I were you, I wouldn’t wear it on the job regardless. There are still some traditionalist wolf judges who might discount your testimony if you present yourself as unfaithful or dishonest. Loyalty’s a thing with us.”

“But that’s  _ ridiculous-” _

“It’s history, Hopps. It’s thousands of years of culture clashing with modern ideals — progress not everyone agrees with, and you know  _ personally  _ how subconscious bias can influence you even if you take an oath to be impartial. There are prey supremacists up on their obscure history who will claim you’re defiling yourself by allowing a predator to own you, and there are hardcore traditionalist predators who will say it’s only right and just; since your boyfriend isn’t allowed to eat you he should be allowed to own you. In either case they won’t respect you. Is sentiment really worth the safety of the city you swore to serve and protect?”

Judy wordlessly un-buckled the strap and tucked it into one of the pouches on her utility belt, feeling stupid and angry. She felt stupid for feeling angry and she was angry about being stupid in the first place. It was just a little piece of jewelry, acceptance into his family. Jimmy had gotten it specially made just for her. She’d been so proud of it, showing it off to her littermates…

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” said Rivers gruffly, starting the car again. “Listen to that vixen, Hopps. I don’t know much about any iterations of fox culture, but I do know that once they consider you one of their own, they’ll fight for you even if it’s dangerous. They’re almost as loyal as wolves, in their own way.”

Jimmy wasn’t like that. She just had to talk to him. Tell him what she’d heard. He never lied to her, and she knew he wouldn’t just lie to her out of nowhere. There  _ had  _ to be a reason, and she trusted that it was a good one. A culture clash, probably. After all, bunnies in Arcadia actually spoke Lapine, a language that even in  _ Bunnyburrow  _ was considered a dead one. And Zootopian rabbits often looked down on Burrows rabbits for their traditions, because Zootopia had a history of forced cultural hegemony…

...Yeah. Definitely just a culture clash.

* * *

It was late. She was exhausted — almost immediately after her heart-to-heart with Rivers, they’d gotten a suicide report, and interviewing witnesses had taken a long time, and the whole thing had been emotionally draining, and all she wanted to do was curl up with Jimmy and  _ sleep.  _ Since it was her turn to cook, she grabbed some takeout from the shop around the corner. It wasn’t as healthy as home-cooked food, but at least it was food.

It was strange, she thought as she walked up the stairs in Jimmy’s building, that she still had her own apartment at all when she spent probably 80% of her nights at his place anyway. She couldn’t quite bring herself to move in with him, though, even if they had idly talked about it. There was something holding her back. Was it the guilt? The worry that he would realize that she  _ didn’t  _ deserve him after all? It was awful of her to be thinking like that at all. It was  _ Jimmy’s choice,  _ and he had chosen her; she needed to just be grateful for that, not to look at all the reasons he was wrong! She took a deep breath before sticking her key into the lock. It wasn’t healthy to think like this, she  _ knew  _ it.

Putting on a smile, because she wanted to be strong for the mammal she loved, Judy opened the door and strode in, ears perky and head high.

“Honey? I got us Lucky’s,” she called into the dark apartment. Jimmy wasn’t in the room, so he was most likely in the little bathroom. She set the bag on the table and began removing cartons, listening for movement. Yep, he was in the bathroom, and she could hear him moving around, washing his paws…

The bathroom door opened and Judy turned to smile at her boyfriend, but her expression became stuck when she saw his. He wasn’t...frowning, necessarily, but he looked sort of...constipated wasn’t the right word. Irritated wasn’t the right word either. She didn’t shrink away from him when he stepped into her space, but her stomach flipped pointlessly when he said, “It’s your turn to cook tonight.”

“I know.” She stepped forward, trying to figure out what his point was. “I’m too tired though. I feel like someone stuck my brain under a rolling pin.”

“We made a deal, Judith, and I expect you to follow through on your end,” he said mildly. Close to each other like this, he seemed to loom over her, twice her size, vaguely threatening.

She frowned, trying not to read into it. She was only spooked from Rivers’ history lesson. She wasn’t afraid of her own loving, wonderful boyfriend. “You  _ expect  _ things from me now?”

“I...didn’t say it right. I’m sorry, it’s been...well, it’s been a day. Our deal was based on your health. C’mere.” He knelt down and hugged her gently and the menacing feeling disappeared. “I  _ worry,  _ Judith. When we met, you were living on frozen dinners and take-out, and you were almost underweight, and you — you’re a police officer. Your life could depend on being in good health. It’s not my job or my place to protect you from the world, but I can do little things. Monitoring your eating habits, making sure you’re  _ healthy,  _ teaching you how to cook...maybe it’s silly, maybe it’s even a little overbearing, but I would feel a bit responsible if anything happened to you because you weren’t at full strength. I’m being stupid about the food; one night off isn’t going to kill anybody. I just don’t want to lose you, okay? You’re my everything. I love you.”

Judy’s heart soared. This was the first time he’d said it. He’d hinted at it, he’d given her clothing and jewelry and taken her to see the city and taught her how to cook and promised her his heart, but he’d never said the words. She nuzzled his neck. “Oh, Jimmy, I love you too. Let me go change and then we’ll eat and you can tell me about your day.”

“You’re perfect. I’ll be waiting,” he replied, kissing her forehead and letting her go.

When she reached the bedroom, she considered leaving the cuff off, but Jimmy had had a bad day, and he  _ loved  _ her, and he was so  _ gentle… _

They would have the conversation, of course, but she didn’t have to decide anything. She buckled the cuff around her wrist again and pulled on a tank top and leggings, hoping to tempt him with her delicate throat and her shapely rear. He had hardly touched her in days, due to conflicting schedules and that exhausting, gut-wrenching matter with Precinct 7 that had left her unbearably sensitive, but she wanted to feel him again. Even if it hurt.


	5. Skyeview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where's the line between encouragement and coercion?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I have to warn for characters watching sketchy porn?

They had finally done it. After months of experimentation, they’d finally found a position they could work with. Judy wasn’t sure she loved it, but she loved Jimmy, and she was so relieved to be able to hit this milestone that she wasn’t going to complain about it.

He was slicked with so much lubricant that he could probably fix a squeaky hinge with his dick, but when he slid into her from behind, it only stretched her, it didn’t  _ hurt.  _ With her thighs spread wide and her knees planted firmly below her belly, she felt more like a contortionist or a yogi, but at least —  _ at least— _

Jimmy reached around to thumb her clitoris and she didn’t care that it kind of felt degrading. She didn’t care that she couldn’t see him, and she barely cared that she didn’t like feeling so out of control. Jimmy loved her, he’d said so, and he would take care with her. If he maybe put too much pressure on her upper back, or maybe thrusted a little too fast, well, they’d get better with practice, so it was time to just lose herself in the pleasure he was giving her.

He  _ was  _ pleasing her; she felt close to him, and she could hear the difference in his groans behind her. It was different from their usual experimentation, and okay, sure, being held face-down wasn’t a fun thing, but  _ this was worth it.  _ He cared, and she cared, and they were good together, and she lost her breath as he thrusted harder, and she dug her nails into the sheets as he came inside of her, still playing frantically with her clit, and the feeling of orgasming with someone inside of her wasn't  _ new,  _ but it was still  _ nice  _ to know it was something they could do if they wanted, and she moaned his name into the mattress, tasting her own sweat.

Evolution had slowly,  _ slowly,  _ been bringing species to the middle for millennia. All mammals were omnivores now, unless they were born with certain throwback intolerances. All mammals had shifted anatomy; denser bones and similar musculature for bipedalism, diminished ancestral gifts in exchange for the ability to hear each other and communicate properly, even hoofed mammals were born with opposable thumbs now.

Jimmy, thankfully, was one of the few foxes who had been born without a baculum. It meant he wasn't quite fit for the Mystic Springs Oasis, but it also meant that he didn't have what was colloquially referred to as a knot. With as big as he was, she knew she couldn't possibly have taken that, too. He had been teased about it a lot in high school, because kits were awful, so sometimes when they were in bed together she would compliment him on how nice his penis looked. It wasn't a lie if it was probably true, right? She didn't know how to judge that sort of thing, but it was less intimidating than the photos she'd seen online while researching how to sexually stimulate foxes.

“You feel so good,” she told him. Because he  _ did,  _ and because he was still a little insecure sometimes.

“So do you,” he replied, running his claws through the fur on the back of her neck. She wished he would pull out and let her turn over, but he was probably just tired. Coitus was a different motion, after all. “Wish you'd let me take off your shirt, though.”

“Maybe next time,” she suggested weakly. She didn't want him to see her torso. Maybe it was silly, but she had some insecurities too. She had scars on her chest from a bad tractor accident in her kithood, and because of the damage done, her nipples were uneven and one was missing entirely, leaving her with five. It had never mattered before, but she'd never felt for anyone before what she felt for Jimmy. She wanted him to like the way she looked. She felt so beautiful when he looked at her, and… “Next time for sure. Let me up.”

With a quick peck to the back of her head, he pulled out of her, leaving her thighs slick and a little gross. They would both need to shower. As he fell diagonally forward, she rolled to the side to give him a little more space; their feet tangled at the ankles and she couldn’t help but smile at him. He looked tired, and he also looked sated, and maybe she wasn’t going to always be  _ enthusiastic  _ about coitus, but at least now they knew it was a real option.

“I love you. So much,” he told her, raising a paw to stroke her cheek. His gentle claws grating over her near-invisible scar tissue gave her a pleasant little shiver. “I don’t know how I thought I was happy before. When I met you, it was like...I was finally seeing in 3D.”

She snatched his paw and gave it a little kiss, just because she could, and hugged it to her chest, trapping it with her knees as she balled up. “We’re good together. I was a little bit of a mess back then, remember? I was impatient-”

“Couldn’t cook to save your life-”

“Pushy-”

_ “Stubborn.” _

“See? You remember. And I...I’m really happy you decided to help me fix myself. I love that you don’t lie to me. I love that you’re mushier than I am, because it reminds me that feelings aren’t something you have to hide. I love  _ you,  _ Jimmy Brownpaw.”

“I’m glad. I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t. Maybe die.”

She snorted. “Don’t joke like that, you’d be amazing whether or not I loved you. But I do.”

“Just saying — you know, it’s a worry. I keep thinking you’re going to leave me.”

Scritch, scritch in the base of her brain. Careful to keep her tone unchanged, she asked, “Is that why you gave me this cuff?”

“Sure.” He smiled at her, open,  _ happy. _ “I want you to be part of my family. I’d never keep that a secret from you. I had to get my sister Amy — you’ll meet her next week, you’ll love her — we spent a week trying to find someone who could make our family symbol with the right kind of resin, and in the end we still had to go to someone else to get the leather tooled. You’re it for me, Judith. I know you don’t want to marry me, but that’s how I feel about you.”

Relief flooded her. It  _ was  _ a culture clash, nothing insidious. Jimmy just wasn’t a good liar; she would have known if he were trying to hide his intentions or deflect attention. She kissed along the inside of his wrist, enjoying his enjoyment of her, and said, “Jimmy, I am  _ not  _ going to leave you.”

“Good,” he breathed, “because I really do think I’d die.”

It was silly. Of course it was. And maybe a little overwhelming, too. But a lot of what she had with Jimmy was overwhelming, because she loved him.

* * *

Skyeview wasn’t as small as Judy had expected, and Nick’s count was a little off; foxes made up about 80% of the population, but there was a pretty decent mix of other mid-sized mammals. In towns like Skyeview (and Bunnyburrow), without climate controls, the species spectrum was limited, but for some reason Judy hadn’t expected to see anything but foxes almost the whole week.

Instead, when they stepped out of the airport, Judy and Jimmy were immediately greeted by a red panda who gave Jimmy a firm squeeze and a wet kiss on the cheek.

“Get off, Tamara,” he grumped, pushing at her shoulder. “Judith, this is Tamara, my sister’s wife. Tamara, this is Judith.”

“I’ve heard about you,” said Tamara with a friendly smile, “but I don’t think near enough. Little Jamie over here is the  _ worst  _ with details.”

“Well, I’m Judy Hopps, and it’s nice to meet you, Tamara,” Judy replied, sticking out her paw to shake. Tamara kept her arm slung over Jimmy’s shoulders and shook Judy’s paw firmly. “I’ve been looking forward to it.”

And she had, mostly. Although she hadn’t gotten many details besides names, Judy had memorized Jimmy’s family: Tamara was married to Elizabeth, Jimmy’s sister Amy had a husband named Peter, his parents were named Rebecca and Connor, and his brother Michael would be getting in tomorrow. He was at some prestigious university studying — wow, Jimmy  _ was  _ bad with details. She’d have to ask him before meeting his brother.

“All right, where’s Lizzie,” Jimmy asked.

“She had to take the car around again so we wouldn’t get fined for parking in the pickup zone. C’mon, let’s get out there before she has to do another loop. Tell me, Judy, how did you meet James?”

“Oh, it was something out of a terrible romcom,” Judy joked, picking up her bag and following at Jimmy’s side. He held out his paw and she took it happily. “We were both in the flower shop and we bumped into each other, and there was...a string of stupid events, but anyway, we got our first date out of it.”

“Course it’d happen that way, this is my brother we’re talking about.” Tamara leaned over to see Judy, an awkward position Judy didn’t think could possibly be comfortable. “Jamie was a real wild child when he was younger.”

Intrigued, Judy asked, “Oh?”

“I wasn’t,” said Jimmy.

“He was. One time, in...oh, his sophomore year, I think, he came home with a B on his report card. And don’t even get me  _ started  _ on his exploits with the ladies. Helping Mrs. Blossom with her groceries, shoveling Alice Sock’s driveway in winter, helping Ginger with her homework…”

“Aww, Jimmy, you were a sweet child,” Judy teased, unconcerned about showing how adorable she found that. She squeezed his paw a little more firmly and smiled all the way outside while her boyfriend and his sister-in-law chatted about current events. 

“-and Mel moved to Valencia, because of course she’d be drawn to the  _ armpit  _ of the province-”

“-trying to swing a pay raise, but my boss still thinks I’m one of the only foxes who isn’t illiterate-”

“-didn’t think you’d ever bring a girl home, he owes me twenty bucks-”

It was different, for sure. When Judy went to visit her family, she had to reintroduce herself to most of her siblings and meet the new additions to the Hopps clan. It was never intimate; everyone was just too busy taking care of kits or doing their job around the farm to socialize much, and although Judy was fairly popular with the younger ones, she tended to crave adult interaction. Jimmy had serious history with Tamara, funny kithood stories and a real familial bond. She couldn’t help but envy them a little, but mostly she was just happy that Jimmy had a loving family.

Although it did nag at her...what had he meant by implying that he hadn’t had anyone to care for him until Judy? Maybe there was something hidden beneath the surface. All families had their problems, but Jimmy deserved better than severe dysfunction hidden behind a veneer of closeness. He was sensitive and he had a big heart.

After all, she could see the pain in his face whenever he told her she was making a stupid decision. He could hear his reluctance when he scolded her for not finishing her plate, or staying out too late with Rivers, or taking too much overtime. The results of his chastisement were undeniable; she had more energy in the morning when she went to bed at a reasonable hour, she had more time to spend with her loved ones when she didn’t focus on work, she wasn’t in danger of being too thin anymore, and most importantly, she had gotten closer to being the kind of mammal she  _ wanted to be.  _ Sooner or later, she’d get to a place where he wouldn’t have to say anything at all. Already she was thinking through her decisions twice, even in her personal life. And after Jimmy had explained it to her, she could see how toxic her parents were — it was why he had refused to meet them — so she didn’t call as much, and never answered their calls. Email was fine.

She was more open to feedback, stronger, and most importantly,  _ happy.  _ If she ever had a resurgence of that guilt and self-doubt, all she had to do was think of Jimmy’s loving expression, his paws on her hips as he whispered about how  _ proud of her  _ he was. She loved Nick and she was growing fond of Ruth, but they were wrong about Jimmy. She knew him, and they didn’t.

A mid-sized sedan pulled up to the curb and a bright orange vixen with big amber eyes rolled down the window and said, “Jump in, punk! Clock’s ticking!”

“Love you too, Lizzie,” Jimmy grumbled, taking Judy’s bag from her paw. His expression gentled. “I’ll put these in the trunk; you can get in.”

Judy climbed into the back seat and said, “You’re Lizzie, right? I’m Judy Hopps.”

“Jimmy’s told me about you,” Lizzie replied with a broad grin. “Lots. Pretty much constantly. He’s always talking about you on our calls. I swear I know more about you than I know about him, these days.”

Judy was about to reply, but the door opened and she watched with a light heart as Tamara slid into the front seat and gave Lizzie a peck on the cheek. In a quiet voice, she said, “Missed you for 15 minutes.”

Equally quietly, Lizzie asked, “Only 15?”

“I got distracted by the scent coming from Snarlbucks, but don’t worry, I still like yours better.”

“You sure?”

“Well, it’s pretty close,” Tamara teased, “but yeah. I know what I’d rather put in my mouth.”

Judy felt a bit like an interloper, but it wasn’t bad, especially when Jimmy finally got into the seat next to her and reached over to grab her paw. Lizzie adjusted her oversized sunglasses and, as she eased away from the curb, said, “I hope you’re ready to meet the skulk. What’s your tolerance level for teasing?”

Judy thought about Nick, whose first language had probably been sarcasm, and shrugged. “I like to think I’m pretty good at it.”

“I guess time will tell,” Lizzie replied, and then they were off.

* * *

Skyeview was picturesque, little bungalows forming a sort of half-moon shape with a “town square” rounding out the rest of the circle. The streets formed rounded rows, with two shopping districts sprucing up the otherwise quiet suburban development. Judy could imagine that at one point, the residents really had made an enclave with their vehicles and then never left, trading in their mobile residences for housing that fit the landscape. They were too far away from the Disney Coast to say that they lived by the beach, but it was definitely in what most mammals back east considered beach territory. Oceana Pacifica was supposedly very different from Oceana Atlantica in a lot of ways, so Judy hoped they’d be able to take a beach day, but she wasn’t counting on it.

Jimmy’s parents lived in a nicer house on the outskirts, one with a swimming pool in the backyard and a pool house beyond the pool itself. The main house had four bedrooms, which Judy understood was unusual for the province if you wanted a house that cost less than half a million bucks; she and Jimmy would be sharing a little nook in the pool house, which suited Judy just fine. Apparently, it had been Jimmy’s childhood bedroom. As someone who had often gone camping alone just to escape the constant crowd in the warren, Judy thought it was neat to have that much privacy.

After dropping off their bags, Jimmy and Judy made their way into the main house, where Rebecca, Connor, Amy, Peter, Lizzie, and Tamara were waiting in the kitchen. It amazed Judy how important food was to the fox cultures she’d been exposed to; it was a communal thing, a bonding activity. A courtship thing, too. Jimmy’s insistence on feeding Judy and teaching her to cook made a lot of sense in context. Nick’s treat hustling made sense, too; it was probably something that came a lot more naturally to him than  _ rugs.  _ Judy had never had any particular love for food, coming from a family whose kitchen routine was like clockwork and by sheer necessity not very flavorful, but she was coming to really appreciate how different flavors blended together. There was chemistry behind it, a real  _ science.  _

“Oh, look, it’s Jamie,” said an older-looking silver fox as soon as Judy trailed through the door after Jimmy, “and  _ you  _ must be Judith!”

“Yep, that’s me, Judy Hopps,” she replied, lightly stressing her name. She still hadn’t come to love being called Judith, but at this point it wasn’t worth fighting about; as long as nobody  _ else  _ called her Judith, it was fine. Nick still called her  _ Carrots,  _ which was borderline speciesist, and she’d gotten used to that. Some mammals got special privileges, and her boyfriend was one of them. It was only right; it wasn’t even a sacrifice, not really. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Judy Hopps. I’m Rebecca, Jamie’s mother,” said Rebecca, grasping Judy’s paw and giving it a firm shake. Judy noted the family symbol on a collar around her neck, prominently displayed against her throat. A quick glance to the side showed that Tamara and Lizzie were also wearing them, although only Lizzie’s symbol was displayed due to Tamara’s turtleneck, and the two other foxes — presumably Amy and Peter — were wearing them as well. Connor wasn’t in the kitchen after all, but Judy’s sensitive ears caught the sound of light snoring from the other side of the house. 

Standard practice, then. Nick, Ruth, and Rivers had been wrong. It was comforting to finally have confirmation of that. Foxes were matriarchal, but since Judy wasn’t a fox, it made sense to induct her into the family anyway. And at least hers was more or less invisible under her sleeves, even if it was a bit bulky. 

Judy did the rounds with Jimmy at her side, smiling brightly at his family members, either shaking their paws or patiently tolerating hugs. Foxes, she knew, were tactile, but only with mammals they trusted. It was nice to be considered family from the get-go. When they reached Amy, the vixen’s smile dropped a little and she asked, “Didn’t Jamie get you a collar?”

“An arm cuff,” she corrected, pulling up her sleeve to show it off. “I’m a police officer in Zootopia, so having a collar is a bad idea. It could be used as a weapon against me in a fight. This way it’s hidden when it needs to be, but I can still wear it.”

She still hadn’t told Jimmy that she took it off for work. Somehow, she’d never found the time, and she didn’t want to disappoint him, and...there was something in her that said she shouldn’t say anything. It wasn’t like he’d get mad, and even if he did, she trusted that he’d talk to her about it. He was just...so  _ sensitive  _ sometimes. She didn’t want to hurt him. He’d make that face, and she’d feel so bad about it, and she didn’t want to compromise her job just to make him feel better, but she knew she’d cave. She always did. He had a way of getting to her. He loved her more than she deserved.

She couldn’t bear to disappoint him, not after he’d done  _ so much  _ for her. It was easier just to put the cuff back on during her train ride home.

“That’s  _ lovely,”  _ Rebecca gushed.

“Yeah, heh, I was actually a little worried at first,” Judy admitted bashfully. “My partner Rivers told me it’s a fidelity sigil that canids wear when they’re not trustworthy. But as I understand it, these are normal for Skyeview.”

Rebecca slapped the back of Jimmy’s head and scolded, “You should have known better than to leave it half-explained! Skyeview’s traditions are unique! Of  _ course  _ she’d get the wrong impression!” She turned to Judy and smiled, even if it was a little pained. “I’m sorry, honey, my son’s an idiot.”

“Hey,” he protested.

“Really, Jamie, you know what these mean to other cultures.”

Jimmy said nothing, just grasped Judy’s paw tightly. She wondered why he wasn’t defending himself. A family problem, or his usual nonconfrontational attitude?

Rebecca sighed. “This town was built from the ground up by foxes who escaped bondage back when branding was in fashion. Nobody really knew what other foxes were like; most of them had been born on pirate ships or in raiding camps, so they didn’t have family names or anything. But they thrived. They reclaimed their freedom, took on the family symbols as their own. Other foxes, as you’ve no doubt heard, adopted the same canid culture of — practically enslaving oathbreakers, but not us. To us, it’s a token of love and commitment. That’s what Jamie should have explained to you.”

“I pieced it together anyway,” she assured Rebecca. “At least, I pieced it together after I fought about it with Nick — I mean my friend, Nick Wilde.”

“Wilde, like from Wilde Times?” Amy gave Judy a lewd look. “And you’re dating my  _ brother  _ instead?”

“What’s Wilde Times,” she asked warily.

“Nothing! It’s  _ nothing,”  _ Jimmy put in, nearly jumping between Judy and his sister. “Amy’s crazy.”

“It’s only the best femme-domme fox porn,” Amy said cheekily. “The fox, Wilde, and this absolutely  _ stunning  _ Arctic hare-”

“It’s not Nick,” said Jimmy. He sounded utterly put-upon. “Wilde is the most common surname for foxes in the  _ world.  _ Judith, trust me, it’s just a dumb video.”

Judy, however, was not so easily dissuaded. “Femme-domme? Like kinky stuff?”

“Oh, honey, you would  _ not  _ believe how well that fox can deepthroat a strap-on. Phew. If only Peter would let me cuff him to  _ our  _ bed…”

“Jimmy, I want to see this! We’ve never had a porn night,” Judy teased, elbowing him in the side gently.

“I don’t know where we’d even find it. We accidentally stumbled across it when we were kits-”

“I have a link to it on my laptop,” Amy stage-whispered. “Don’t worry, even if my dumb brother has weird hangups, I’ll still email it to you!”

“Yes. Absolutely. Do that,” Judy said, mostly to tease Jimmy but also because she kind of wanted to see it. She’d watched some porn before and found it lacking — scripted, bland stuff, fake enthusiasm and a little too much emphasis on the male orgasm — but this sounded way more interesting. “I’m Judy Hopps, one word, two P’s, at zmail.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Jimmy, prompting another smack to the head from his mother.

* * *

After a lovely dinner, Judy and Jimmy were back in the pool house, sharing the couch. Jimmy’s bedroom was hardly more than a nook in the corner, separated from the rest of the area by a curtain — almost precisely mimicking his little studio apartment — but it was too early to go to bed, so Judy had suggested watching a movie, something mindless. Maybe a horror flick or even a stupid situational comedy. 

Instead, Jimmy seemed to want to talk. Judy was more than happy to listen.

“I was moved out here when I came out,” he said quietly, looking down at his knees. “It was played off as a coincidence — getting  _ too big  _ to share a room with Michael — but everybody knew the truth.”

“But...Lizzie’s married to Tamara,” Judy said, confused. 

“Yeah, ten years after I came out. I was a thirteen-year-old kit who barely understood what was going on with my own body; I only knew I had a crush on David from my algebra class and I asked my mom how she approached my dad. It didn’t help that David was a Southdown ram. It wasn’t great to go from a sweet kit, the  _ smart one,  _ to the one nobody really wanted to talk to. Lizzie was kind of supportive, but she was dealing with her own problems, internalized homophobia...Tamara has been around since I was about nine, but until I was 21 she wasn’t Lizzie’s girlfriend, just her bosom buddy. I yelled at everyone before I left for Zootopia. Told them they should be ashamed of themselves, that I hoped they spent the rest of their lives unhappy. I guess it actually got through to them, because when I was 22 they all came to see me and apologized, and when I was 23 Lizzie and Tamara got married. But I never really could forgive them. I just let it go because it was easier.”

“I can understand that,” Judy said, thinking of her relationship with her own parents. It was easier to just ignore that they’d tried to tear her down than to face the implications head-on. “But if that’s your family history, then why…”

“Why won’t I meet your family? Why am I so worried about you spending time with them?”

She nodded. He sighed and gathered her against his side, leaning his cheek on the top of her head. “It hurts, Judith. It hurts every day, knowing that I allowed them to run over me and hurt me because it was  _ easy.  _ Facing them hurts. The  _ hypocrisy,  _ the knowledge that I was treated like shit and Lizzie was given their enthusiastic blessings, and all they had to offer me was empty apologies and platitudes.  _ We didn’t know better. You were a challenge we had to overcome. _ I see the same thing from your parents; they’re encouraging your younger siblings to try new things, but they did their best to squash your dreams. If I can save you from that pain, then I will.”

A piece of her reared up in protest. Was it really his place to save her from anything? Logic said no, but everyone said it was different when you were in love. She’d never felt like this about anyone else, but she’d seen enough romcoms and read enough trashy romance novels to get the message that this was normal. When you loved someone, you wanted to protect them. Wasn’t that why she had gone to tell Nick about the incident of police brutality in person? Wasn’t that why she had been so careful with Jimmy from the very beginning? Maybe Jimmy’s brand of protection was a little condescending — no, he just loved her enough to make sure she stayed healthy, right? 

Plus, she couldn’t deny the positive effects on her mental health. Without the (much more gentle these days) prodding from her parents to do something less dangerous with her life, she didn’t need to pretend so much. She could be herself around the mammals she cared about in Zootopia. Could she say the same about most of her family in Bunnyburrow? Wasn’t that why she’d decided only to email or text except for regular calls every couple of weeks? 

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Jimmy,” she said sincerely, snuggling into him. “But hey, let’s watch that video Amy sent me. Get your mind off all of that.”

“Oh, God, Judith, it’s not worth watching.”

“That is not convincing,” she told him. She reached for her laptop and navigated to her email. It was strange that she didn’t have any secrets from him; normally, she would be viciously protective of her privacy, having grown up with so little of it, but she trusted Jimmy, and besides, it wasn’t like she had anything to hide. Some emails from her family, a few updates from Nick when his charger had died, and a slew of emails from a Gazelle fansite she had subscribed to long before she’d enrolled at the ZPA. 

“Fine,” he said with exaggerated frustration, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She clicked the link in Amy’s email and settled in next to him, waiting for the picture to come up. The buffering took a minute, but then— 

At first, she didn’t  _ really  _ know what she was looking at; the fox, who looked similar (but not identical) to Nick, was pawcuffed to the slats of a bed, stripped bare, and even though she knew it was staged, she began looking for clues about where he was and making a plan to rescue him...but he was grinning, and she couldn’t ignore that he was erect. 

“John Wilde, you are in for it now,” a sultry voice said from behind the camera. John...that was Nick’s father’s name. They shared a lot of similarities, and... _ oh.  _ Nick’s dad was a — he’d been in — Nick hadn’t said.

A lean Arctic hare strutted into the picture, posing intermittently. She had a long red dildo attached to a harness on her waist, and — Judy knew where this was going because Amy had told her. She wanted to look away. This fox was  _ Nick’s father;  _ he was her friend, and he would probably feel weird about knowing Judy had seen his dad naked. But she couldn’t stop watching. This was also a porn video she might have seen even if she’d never met him, and it was like a  _ train wreck —  _ the doe shoved the dildo in his mouth and thrusted,  _ hard,  _ he choked and drooled and keened and — she eyed Jimmy, who was studiously paying no attention to the video — John made sweet disappointed noises when she pulled away — Judy felt like she was  _ burning  _ when the doe spread open John’s legs and pushed his hips up, pouring lube — John dripped on his own chest when she slapped his testicles, and Judy’s toes curled while her knees squeezed together, she was going to die for sure — and it was violent, animalistic, nothing like anything Judy had done, and John sang and jerked in his cuffs, and his face was  _ bliss  _ when he came— 

And later, when the credits rolled, Judy and Jimmy were both surprised to see  _ Oliver Evergreen  _ credited for the role of John. It wasn’t even anyone related to Nick, just a happenstance resemblance.

“So that’s someone’s best interpretation of interspecies porn,” Jimmy said, tone unreadable. “Aggressive, dominant bunnies who take what they want from foxes who look  _ just like  _ Nick. And based on your scent, you wouldn’t exactly be averse. Should I worry about how close you are?”

Oh. Was  _ that  _ why he hadn’t wanted to watch it with her? That was...kind of insulting. She didn’t know how to feel about that. Was a platonic relationship with Nick really that inconceivable? Did he really  _ not  _ trust her not to stray? She fingered the cuff around her arm, trying to process her feelings on the matter. She trusted Jimmy, and he didn’t lie to her. So why did she feel bad about it? 

She was probably just making something out of nothing. That was something she did sometimes. Obviously she needed to work on that, too.

“No, silly. You know as well as I do that nobody can help getting aroused by sexy things,” she explained, embarrassed that he could tell and trying not to be annoyed. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t read her mind. “But just because I thought it was sexy doesn’t mean I want to do that with _Nick._ For all _you_ know, I was attracted to the hare. Which is actually true, but I’ll admit it: I want to do that. With _you._ I just didn’t know it until now.”

“You want me to cuff you to the bed?”

“No.”

“...Oh.”

They sat silently side by side, the revelation slightly unpleasant. Judy could have gone forever without knowing that about herself. What good would it do when Jimmy clearly wasn’t into it? Was  _ that  _ why she wasn’t a fan of the way they’d finally had intercourse? Because she wanted to be in charge? There she went again, being selfish—

Wait.

Was it really selfish? Why would she think that?

Common sense warred with guilt. She had nothing to be guilty for. Clearly it was a common enough desire that other mammals made porn of it, and Amy was into it, so it wasn’t that big a deal. So she and Jimmy didn’t agree on  _ everything.  _ That wasn’t so bad. They didn’t have to match perfectly.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she assured him. “I’m not going to go all femme-domme on you unless you want it. We just didn’t watch this, okay? It never happened.”

He nosed at her neck and she felt a shiver run through her as he breathed, “You have no idea how amazing you are.”

“If I don’t-” She had to pause to catch her breath when he trailed his claws over her hip. “If I don’t have an idea after you’ve said it so many times, I’m the dumbest mammal alive.”

“And  _ that  _ is the sexiest sentence I’ve heard all week.”

She heated a little inside, in her chest especially. It always felt so good when he said things like that. She didn’t know how she could possibly repay him, so she decided it was time for the last barrier between them to be stripped away. Facing him, she played with the hem of her Henley and said, “I want to show you my — I’m going to take my shirt off for you.”

His smile was practically beatific. It thrilled her. As much as she didn’t like being put on a pedestal, she sort of liked being worshiped like this. It made her feel powerful, worthwhile,  _ valuable. _ With a deep breath, she pulled on the bottom of her shirt and tugged it over her head, dropping it to the side of the couch.

Jimmy’s face was impassive. She felt her heart drop, at least until he lifted a paw and gently traced the faded scars on her chest. It felt good to have that soft sensation on her sensitive scar tissue, especially when his expression changed to one of adoration. “Why on earth would you want to keep this hidden?”

“I...scars are a little gross,” she said, prior dates coming to mind. Nobody had ever spent time on that area, especially not with such  _ care.  _ “And my nipples — the surgery — I only have five because they couldn’t save one. It’s ugly, and-”

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, and leaned forward to kiss the topmost scar running diagonally across her chest. It was low enough that her shirts never showed it, which was good, and his mouth was good, too. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before, his mouth trailing across the lines, his tongue —  _ his claws, coming up to circle her top nipples —  _ she had never even imagined that she could get  _ pleasure  _ from her torso — she keened, needy and aroused, and she couldn’t even bring herself to feel anything about the obvious ego trip behind his grin against her chest.

“Come on, let’s go to your bed,” she said. Whined, really, but that was all right. She desperately wanted to go further. His acceptance and adoration made her lightheaded. Jimmy picked her up bodily by her hips and shifted to grasp her rear with one paw, steadying her back with the other, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and leaned down to nibble on the rim of his ear. He groaned and only made it a couple of steps before he had to set her down. While he pulled off his pants, she scrambled onto the bed, anxious and excited and not quite understanding how he’d gone from annoyed by the video to wanting her, but whatever it was, she liked it.

He crawled up to kiss her once and pulled her skirt and undies off in one quick motion, his other paw going up to trace another nipple. She thought she might die, it was so good. He skipped using his thumb or finger to ease her into anything and instead went straight to his tongue, softly licking at her labia. She was aroused, certainly, but not fully  _ turned on  _ yet, so it was a nice warmup, slick and hot, and his eyes were too intense to not get to her. He wanted her, and he wanted her to know it.

“Jimmy,” she said, and she liked the way it sounded, commanding and almost impetuous. 

He obliged her unspoken request and licked her head-on, making her jerk. This was new, not as gentle, as though they’d been given permission to try something new and dangerous. He kept his paws on her torso, tracing her scars, stimulating her nipples, even brushing over her navel scar, which was an interesting sensation. But good. It was all so  _ good,  _ and his tongue was flexible, and his lips were soft around her clitoris, and how was he so good at this? She was going to find all of his exes and give them gift baskets, or, that was weird, and then the thought slipped away as she tensed up on the verge of orgasm…

He stopped, and she wasn’t embarrassed by her whine. This was Jimmy. He always said she didn’t have to be embarrassed by anything, and what was she even thinking? Nothing important. The only important thing was Jimmy, his slow paws and his tongue that was  _ just out of reach. _

“Judith, I want to cum on your face tonight,” he told her, and then licked her again, slow and sweet. She writhed in place, overwhelmed by all the sensations he was causing, trying to get  _ more —  _ she was almost there,  _ so close,  _ she could feel him  _ breathing  _ and she was on  _ fire —  _ and her head was fuzzy, and she would have agreed to pretty much anything if she could only  _ finish— _

“Yes, of course, now  _ please,  _ Jimmy,  _ please-” _

And he went back to licking and tracing all at once, his claw-tips prodding her navel scar and tracing her nipples one by one, and she wrapped her legs around his head and he licked and licked until she melted into a puddle on his bed, hot and shaking and satiated. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she had come so hard and so fast, and she hardly recognized her own voice breathing his name,  _ Jimmy, I love you.  _ He crawled up closer to kiss her forehead, her cheek, the tips of her ears, and she gripped the sheets because she was so  _ sensitive.  _ He pushed himself up on his knees—

It wasn’t until he stroked himself for the first time that she remembered what she had agreed to. She eyed the tip of his penis warily, uncertain, and he paused his motions when he saw her expression. “Judith? You okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m...I just...um.”

“Oh. You don’t want this,” he realized, sounding disappointed and shrinking back. She felt guilt gnaw at her gut even through the intense aftershocks of her orgasm. “Of course, I should have known you didn’t mean it-”

“No,  _ no,  _ Jimmy, I’m...it’s probably fine. I don’t really understand? I’m not sure about it? But I want you, and I love you, and if this is going to make you happy, then…”

“I mean, you don’t have to. I can live without it.”

It was  _ that,  _ really, that convinced her. He’d been making all of these concessions for her, accommodating her sexually and emotionally, being kind to her even when she didn’t deserve it. Correcting her, loving her. She had already agreed, hadn’t she? Being sex-glazed wasn’t a defense in a court of law, why would it be in bed? It wouldn’t hurt her, and sure, she didn’t think she would like it, but Jimmy would. It was such a small sacrifice compared to what he had done for her, and it wasn’t like he was demanding it. She had been so selfish with him. It was  _ beyond  _ time to give back. “I want you to do it. Cum on my face, okay? It will be a fun new experience.”

“Are you sure,” he asked hesitantly.

“Just do it, Jimmy.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he joked, and began stroking himself again.

As her arousal faded, Judy watched with a sort of detached, academic interest as he jerked himself off. His paws were bigger than hers, and he went a little slower than she did when she gave him pawjobs, and he didn’t spend much time on his testicles, but he still looked at her the same way. He always looked so  _ intense,  _ and it always drew her in — so much so that she was entirely absorbed in his blissful expression until he grabbed her ear with one paw and a warm, thick string of ejaculate splished onto her nose and forehead. Shocked, she instinctively tried to draw back, but the pillow and his paw prevented movement, and she watched him throb again, rubbing himself vigorously with his other paw. Out came another string, this one thinner and less, well, explosive, and it landed on her cheek, but the next one stretched diagonally across the inside corner of her eye. She closed her eyes against the dwindling orgasm, but he yanked on her ear and demanded,  _ “Look  _ at me, Judith.”

And much to her shame, she was afraid of him. Her eyes went wide as she did what she was told, because that _voice —_ that wasn’t her Jimmy, that was something else, and she hated it. Jimmy was someone she knew. He was goofy, and funny, and so _kind,_ and he didn’t demand things or scare her or yank her ears, and she _wouldn’t cry,_ because that would be stupid. They would talk about it, and she’d find out...her eyes were just moist, she wasn’t about to cry, she _wasn’t._

Jimmy panted above her, and then derailed her whole thought process with a gorgeous, open smile and a short statement. “My God, you’re the most beautiful creature on Earth.”

“I...what?”

“Sometimes it just strikes me,” he told her, relaxing his grip on her ear and massaging the bottom of it instead. A shiver went through her. “I could look at you forever and never get tired of it. It’s a privilege to have you — in my life, in my bed. You’re exquisite.”

“I...I’m just me,” she said uncertainly. She had scars on her chest, and her nipples were uneven, and she wasn’t as curvy as other rabbits. She was a little too tall and her ears were a little too long, an embarrassing recessive trait that made every rabbit with the right allelic expression stand out. She wasn’t  _ Amy,  _ that was for sure. She was just a dumb bunny who wore her mistakes like clothing.

“You might say otherwise if you could see yourself. Actually...here.” Jimmy reached over to the nightstand — Judy considered distracting him with a lick to the head of his penis, but she wasn’t sure if he’d be okay with it, so she didn’t — and grabbed his phone, which had been charging there. “I’m going to take a picture of you, okay?”

“Okay,” she replied hesitantly. She tried to smile for the camera. It felt pornographic, though, and she wasn’t fond of feeling so trapped by his thighs, and she still felt weird about what they’d done. What  _ he’d  _ done. 

He turned the phone around to show her the photo he’d snapped and said, “Look at that and tell me you’re not gorgeous.”

That was easy; she wasn’t. Her smile was brave enough, but her wide ears were turned the wrong way and her fur was matted with semen. Her eyes were glazed. She looked wrecked, and she hated it, and before she could get it under control, she burst into tears. Startled, Jimmy dropped his phone and grabbed his shirt to dab at her face. “Judith? What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

She couldn’t say it. She wasn’t even sure what “it” was, except that she hated the way she looked, and she felt terrible about a lot of things, and none of those thing were Jimmy’s fault, but the only thing that would come out was, “You yanked my ear.”

He paused, looking confused. “I...what?”

It only made her cry harder. She felt so  _ stupid,  _ crying about this little thing. It wasn’t like she’d never accidentally dug her nails into him when he made her cum with his tongue, so she knew she  _ shouldn’t  _ be upset with him, but...it wasn’t the same. “You yanked my ear, Jimmy.”

He shifted so that instead of hovering over her, he was kneeling beside her, and he gently finished what he’d started with his shirt. At a low murmur, he said, “I didn’t realize that would make you cry.”

“It c-could have damaged my hearing! It hurt, and I didn’t — I thought you — I never thought you would ever scare me, Jimmy, but you did, and…”

He tossed the shirt to the side and reached for her, but she rolled onto her side and curled into a ball, trying to minimize the heaving of her chest. She hated crying. It hurt to cry, and nobody took her seriously when she was upset, and she didn’t want to ruin the night but she couldn’t help it, couldn’t help the shaking or even the shame. 

“Oh,” he said, and curled himself around her, the tip of his tail coming up to cover her face while he sneaked one of his arms under her to encircle her in a firm hug from behind. She focused on her uneven breathing while he made soothing noises and sort of moved together with her until he sat up and brought her with him, settling her into his lap. He was soft and softening behind her, against her back, while he rubbed his cheek across her head and rocked side to side. She felt his breath ruffle her fur, his whisper across her neck. “I thought it would feel good. You like it when I massage your ears; I had no idea it could be harmful. I just wanted to make it good for you.”

“Well, it wasn’t.”

“And I’m  _ sorry.”  _ He squeezed her gently into his chest. She was completely wrapped up in him, and his rhythmic breathing behind her was already helping her to calm down. “I won’t do it again. We’re both smart enough to learn from this. I’ll remember not to yank your ears, and you’ll remember that you still haven’t taught me much about bunnies. You’ll teach me.”

She wanted to tell him not to tell her what to do, or to assume anything about her, but she was tired and she didn’t want to pick a fight. She just wanted to feel better. Jimmy was a lot of things, but he wasn’t purposely harmful. He was right; she still hadn’t told him all he needed to know about bunnies. How could he have known? It was an easy mistake to make. He liked it when she tugged on his fur. Tugging was a good thing in his mind, a pleasurable thing. Of  _ course  _ he would think she would want her ears yanked. She was stupid for thinking, even for a second, that he would try to hurt her. For being scared. This was Nick’s claws all over again. Would she ever learn? 

“I’m sorry too,” she murmured. Her voice was shaky still, but she felt better. She’d just been a dumb bunny. It wasn’t his fault. “I should have told you.”

“Yes, you should have, but it’s over. You’re okay. You’re important to me. Just tell me what I can’t do, and I won’t do it.”

_ You could ask before trying,  _ she didn’t say, because she was trying to be less self-involved. She wanted to be better. It was her responsibility to ask questions and state her own needs; she didn’t want to be selfish. And Jimmy was helping. Just by reminding her that she was smart enough to advocate for herself, he was helping.


	6. Pieces of Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honeymoon's long over. Judy gets the message.

_Dear Aunt Judy:_

_I have my very own Email address! Mom let me get it! So I decided to write to you first!_

_I miss you! How come you don’t want to come home for First Harvest? Mom says you have lots of work in Zootopia, but sometimes you call us, so do you really have to work all the time? Did I do something wrong? You can tell me! I’m good at solving problems! My math teacher said so!_

_I got a C on my project about bunny history because stupid Mr. Hoofson said I should stick to the book stuff, but he’s a deer. What does he know about bunnies? He doesn’t even know about the coyotes! Everybody knows about that, it’s even in the sky! What a dummy. Mom says I should be nice about him. Can you come arrest him for being a mean teacher? Is that a crime? I hope so! Maybe he’ll run away and you can shoot him in the butt with a sleep arrow! Or is that only on Criminal Meerkats? Mom says I can’t watch that but I do when she isn’t around because I’m going to grow up to be a police officer too! Maybe I can be partners with you and the fox guy who helped you find all those predators! Does he have sharp teeth like Mr. Grey the pie guy? Can I have sharp teeth so I can eat candy better? Mom says no, but she’s boring. What do you think? Will I grow sharp teeth if I wish hard?_

_Anyway come home soon! And write back as soon as you can!_

_Love:_

_Cotton Hopps_

* * *

Judy felt strange reading over Cotton’s email for the _n_ th time. She’d gotten it shortly after returning from Skyeview, and it had been a punch to the gut: in avoiding her parents and her not-so-nice siblings, she had been ignoring the good parts of her family, too. The siblings who’d been there for her. Cotton, her beloved niece. Jimmy’s advice, while sound, didn’t make much sense in the scheme of things...did it? She didn’t want to be the mammal who bailed on the ones who meant so much to her, not again. Not after Nick.

She hadn’t liked who she had been before. She wasn’t sure she liked who she was turning into, either. Was she fundamentally flawed? She couldn’t remember thinking that as a child. She remembered being driven, and being proud of that. She remembered being proud of herself, unabashed, self-assured. Had her horrible mistakes been a wake-up call? That seemed like the likeliest explanation, but something in her recoiled at the idea. She was a good mammal. She cared. That hadn’t changed. Or had it? Could she really say she had cared when she had _hurt_ so many mammals? Even Jimmy, eventually, had acknowledged—

Not exactly. He’d never said it in so many words. Had he finally agreed with her, or had he simply run out of energy to fight her on it? Cripes, was she becoming the kind of dead weight he’d have to _settle for?_

That settled it. She needed to go back to Bunnyburrow, if only to get closure. It felt wrong to cut Cotton out of her life, but maybe she wouldn’t have to. Maybe Jimmy would see that her family wasn’t as bad as he thought they were. Why hadn’t she fought harder? It was just that he always made so much _sense._ His arguments were always logical, quietly stated…

“Jimmy,” she called out to him. She was sitting on his little loveseat with her phone in her paws and he was in the kitchen area, humming a little as he made a veggie stir-fry with peanuts and low-sodium soy sauce.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Next time there’s a long weekend, I want to take you to meet my family in Bunnyburrow.”

He turned around with a disbelieving look on his face. “You what?”

“I want to introduce you to my family,” she repeated, trying not to frown. “You took me to meet yours; it’s only fair, right?”

“You _know_ I don’t want to meet them,” he said. He rolled his eyes and turned back to the stove. “My family is part of my life.”

“As mine should be.” She eyed her phone, still open to the email from Cotton. It itched under her skin, a _wrongness_ that didn’t make sense. What was wrong?

He snorted. “It’s a requirement for me, but it’s not for you. Why _you_ still want to go back, I have no idea. They’re poison.”

“No more poison than yours,” she countered, surprising herself. She hardly ever disagreed with him anymore. They’d never even fought; it was like they were on the same wavelength. That had been one of the best things, not having to worry about explaining herself poorly. He was comfortable, not like a rut was comfortable but like a favorite sweater was comfortable. She’d certainly never been this stern with him. She had never _needed_ to be. “Just a month and a half ago we spent a week with the mammals who wouldn’t let you live in the same _house_ as them!”

“And it was _torture!”_ She curled up a little. Jimmy didn’t yell. She hadn’t even thought he had it in him. He was aggressively nonconfrontational. He took a deep breath, moved the pan from the heat, and turned around. “I told you I don’t want you to have to go through that. I couldn’t bear it.”

“It’s...not really up to you, though,” she told him, unnerved. It had felt fine in the abstract, but this outright refusal was disconcerting. It felt degrading in a way she couldn’t really capture in thought.

“Isn’t it? You’re the one who wanted me to tell you when you’re doing something stupid. This? It’s stupid, Judith. It’s a bad decision. Are you a masochist? Do you really want to be hurt that badly? Because I can make that happen, and you don’t even need to leave home.”

It felt like a threat. There wasn’t any reason to believe that it was, but it felt like one anyway. She shook her head and asked the question she had always written off as unimportant. “Why do you _really_ not want to meet my parents? Is it because they’re bunnies?”

He sighed softly and came to kneel down in front of her, taking her paws. “It isn’t anything to do with your species, Judith. But you’re a queen. You’re _my_ queen. When you hurt, I hurt. And they hurt you. You’re not required to be around mammals who are toxic for you. You don’t owe them anything — and don’t say your life, Judith, that’s not the way it works. You didn’t choose to be born. _They_ made the choice to treat you badly.”

“But I…” Thoughts jumbled in her mind, sun-soaked memories of working on the mechanic crew, fresh peas straight from the shell, muscle aches from cheer (which her parents had encouraged and _paid for),_ camping on the edge of the property either alone or with her closest siblings. It mingled with memories of being told she should settle, being told her dreams were worthless...maybe not worthless, maybe just unachievable...wasn’t that the same thing? Or was that Jimmy’s idea? She couldn’t remember. “It wasn’t as bad as you think it was. Jimmy, I want to go. Even if it’s just to get closure, I want to go and see my family.”

“That’s insane. You’re _insane,”_ he told her, and it _hurt._ Jimmy didn’t lie to her. So either he was wrong, or he was _right,_ and she didn’t know which, and she hated herself for not knowing — for doubting him, for not being able to bring herself to agree with him. “I don’t understand why you’re so insistent on letting mammals hurt you. Your parents, _Nick..._ you even ignore the speciesism at work! You still go out with Rivers once a week when literally all you do together is drink and war story! What do I have to do to get you to _respect_ yourself, Judith?”

It was like a slap to the face. No, she thought she’d _prefer_ a slap to the face, because she would know for sure that it was wrong. Mean-spirited. But maybe Jimmy was right; maybe she had spent so long feeling guilty for things that she’d just settled on hating herself. Maybe she _didn’t_ respect herself. Outside perspectives were always good...and he was constantly trying to bolster her, to convince her that she was precious and loved and if she still couldn’t believe him, maybe she _was_ crazy. Maybe she’d always be this crazy, broken thing who needed someone else to remind her to smile, to make sure she ate right...how was he still with her when she was this hard to handle?

Even though it pained her to say, because bunnies got terribly attached to their mates, she told him, “You know you can leave me...right? If I’m really so bad, you don’t have to stay with me. I won’t break.”

“I’m not gonna leave you,” he sighed, pushing up on his knees so he could pull her forward into an awkward hug that was more knees than arms. “You’re not _bad._ That’s what I’m trying to say. You make bad decisions sometimes, but you’re not a bad mammal. Far from it. You’re wonderful. That’s why I don’t want to see you hurt. You’re sweet-” He kissed her head between her ears. “You’re sensitive-” And her cheek. “And maybe a little broken, but you’re practically perfect. I shouldn’t have called you insane. The idea is crazy, _not you._ I know how hard it is to break free of that kind of emotional conditioning.”

“I don’t feel like the bunny you describe at all,” she confessed. She didn’t feel wonderful. She didn’t feel sweet. And she _certainly_ wasn’t practically perfect. She was suspicious, kind of dumb...and maybe — probably — he was right about her being a little broken. She didn’t deserve him.

“I know, darling. _I know._ But I promise you that you are.”

He kissed her all over and she accepted his attention gratefully, even though it felt strangely out of place. They ate their dinner cold and she didn’t mind. Her body was on autopilot and later, when she caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she did a double-take. Who was that, wearing a lacy blouse, all plunging neckline and tiny sleeves, and a blank expression?

She told herself to smile. Ordered it. And her face wouldn’t comply.

* * *

She caught her reflection in the window by the table and for a long, strange moment, she wondered who that was. There she was, same long black-tipped ears, same twitchy little nose, same gray fur. When she brought her paw up to touch the glass, the reflection moved with her. When she leaned forward, so did it. Her reflection was hers, but there was something wrong with it. It might have been hers, but it wasn’t her.

 _Who is that bunny,_ she thought. _Who is she?_

“Salad extra in acorn special,” said a voice. She blinked and looked away from the reflection to focus on her companion. She’d forgotten Ruth was there. Mama was important to Judy, not just because she was Nick’s mother, but because she was Ruth Wilde, who cared and invited Judy to tea and had no reservations about detailing her youthful exploits as a romance scammer. Mama gave her a weird look and said, “Finally. For a moment I thought I was a third wheel on your date with yourself.”

“Ah...sorry,” Judy said, unsure of how to respond. She doubted Mama was interested in this crisis of identity she’d been having for the past couple of weeks. She didn’t want to be interested in it, either, except it was happening to her, for whatever reason. “Just lost in thought.”

“Your head must be a labyrinth, then. I said your name three times before you heard,” Mama teased, but Judy cringed. The sentiment wasn’t wrong. Her head was all messed up.

“Mama, I think...something’s wrong with me. I think I’m screwed up inside. It happened before, but I thought I was done with it…”

There wasn’t any judgment on Ruth’s face, _Mama’s_ face, but for some reason Judy felt ashamed anyway. Like admitting this was breaking a rule, which was _stupid,_ Judy could say anything she wanted to anyone as long as it wasn’t hurtful. Judy was doing a lot of stupid things lately, though. This wouldn’t be so different. “Tell me what’s going on, Judy.”

 _Judy._ Her chest burned. She missed that name. Jimmy’s family had used it, but Jimmy didn’t. Nick used it...but when was the last time they had talked instead of texting? Just before she’d gone off to Skyeview. She hadn’t even bothered to text him back in three weeks. What kind of horrible friend was she? It was no wonder she couldn’t recognize herself in the mirror. She wasn’t herself. She was something else. No wonder Jimmy was trying to help her, too. What a wreck he must have seen when he looked at her.

“Sometimes,” she said carefully, measuring her words as best she could, “I’ll catch a glimpse of myself — a reflection — and I don’t recognize the bunny standing there. I feel like I’m trapped. I’m still me, but I’m stuck inside my head, and someone else has taken over my life. And this other mammal is pretending to be someone good. This other mammal has taken things it doesn’t deserve and keeps lying to everyone about who it is. I felt like this after my disaster of a press conference back during the night howler case, but after I started dating Jimmy, it went away. He helped me deal with it. I have no idea why it came back though. It’s like...I can’t even smile anymore unless he tells me to. And it’s not because I don’t want to, it just won’t come through. I feel most like myself when I’m not with him, which makes _no sense,_ because he’s the one who tells me how _wonderful_ I am. He’s the one who helps me be better than I was. He compliments me, keeps me on track...so why am I so ungrateful? Why am I like this? Am I just fundamentally messed up? Am I _crazy?”_

For a long, long moment, Mama just sat back and looked at her, nothing on her face at all to tell Judy what she was thinking. Of course not. Ruth Wilde had grown up picking pockets and running cons. Nothing showed on her face unless she wanted it to. Finally, she asked, “When’s the last time you saw your parents?”

“Um,” Judy stammered, thrown by what seemed to be a non-sequitur. “About ten months, I think? Before I met Jimmy. We don’t really talk very much anymore.”

“Why not?”

“They’re not good for me. Toxic upbringing, all of that,” Judy said despondently. She wanted to sound firm, but she didn’t have it in her. Something about it nagged at her. Jimmy was right, wasn’t he? Everything he said had a logic to it. It all made sense when he said it. “Jimmy had to kind of hammer it into my head, but I finally saw how bad it was. They never believed in me. So...we don’t talk much. It’s better this way.”

There was definitely a little disdain in Ruth’s voice when she said, “Jimmy said this to you?”

“Yeah, he’s...always looking out for me, especially since it seems like half the time I can’t look out for myself.”

Why did that feel like a big clunking lie? It was _true._

“Hmm.” Mama’s lips were thin as she paused. Then, she asked, “And this boy loves you?”

That was an easy one. “Absolutely. He’s been there for me for almost a year now. He’s helped me through some really rough times, and he’s always ready with a kind word or encouragement, and he’s never told me to quit my job which was _always_ a deal-breaker when I tried to date before, and…”

And he really liked to cum on her face and somehow managed to get her to _ask_ for it even though she hated it, and he called her crazy, and he said she made stupid decisions, but none of that was inherently bad, right? He just wanted her to be safe and happy. And he never did anything to her that she didn’t want. Sometimes she just needed encouragement to ask. There was nothing wrong with that, either.

“...It’s like I said. He looks out for me.”

“Nicholas tells me you haven’t been talking to him.”

“I know.” She looked away. She couldn’t bear to see the anger that was sure to be written in Mama’s expression. “I’m not a good friend. I never really have been. I try, but...I don’t know, Jimmy keeps saying stuff and I get scared. I know Nick would never hurt me, but I get scared and then I get busy and I’m awful. I know I’m awful, it’s been well-established for a long time. I’m sorry.”

“Hmph. I’m not the one you should apologize to.”

She wanted to slither under the table, dig a hole, and hide in it. “I know, I should go see Nick.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Look at me, Judy.” She did so, and was surprised to see that Mama wasn’t angry, or at least, she didn’t look angry. Instead, she looked like she understood something she hadn’t understood before, and it was unsettling, but at least it wasn’t anger. “It’s time you stopped beating yourself up for past mistakes. You don’t have to let them define you. They’re not something you have to _change_ yourself over. Who told you that you were a bad mammal? Who told you that you had to fix something that wasn’t broken?”

“I...nobody did, it’s just logical-”

“My past mistakes are _countless,”_ Mama said flatly. “I don’t regret them, because I don’t regret doing what I had to do to keep myself alive. I don’t regret doing what I had to do to protect my son. But I will admit to doing some very harmful things that I can never take back or make up for. That’s not even including what I said to drive Nicholas away from me when he was only 12 years old. I know what you said at your press conference. You can feel guilty about that if you want. It’s been over a year since then, but no one’s saying you’re not allowed to feel guilty. But it’s unnecessary. Get back to me when you’ve planted false evidence of homosexual infidelity to make a marriage between homophobic bigots fall apart. I did that to punish one of the little bastards who hurt my Nicholas. That’s one of the tamer things I did. I’m not sorry about it. I did the only thing I knew how to do to protect my son. What you said? It was _nothing._ When Nicholas was on the streets, the idiot boy tried to rip of a mob boss and took advantage of small mammals who couldn’t possibly know they were getting scammed. I don’t know what else he did, but he’s my son, so I can imagine that some things were less pleasant than simple gold brick schemes. Do you think either one of us is irredeemable?”

“No, of course not!” Passion crept up in her chest, and it felt good, even though part of her was appalled at the question. “You both were just doing the best you could with what you had!”

“Then _why,”_ Ruth asked, driving her point home, “can’t you say the same for yourself?”

“I should have known better!”

“And Nicholas should have known better than to treat you the way he did, and I should have known better than to leave a string of broken hearts and empty wallets behind me. You should either judge us as harshly as you judge yourself, or give yourself a break.”

It felt _wrong._ It was the same thing that Jimmy told her, but the way Mama said it, there was something like absolution. Not a band-aid over a cut, not suggestions about fixing herself, just forgiveness. It hurt, and it felt good, just like pressing down on a bruise. Or getting a deep tissue massage during a time of stress. It didn’t feel _shallow._

“Mama, I…”

“Do me a favor.”

_“Anything.”_

“Ask Jimmy what he likes about you. If he really loves you, he’ll have a million things to say, and half of them will sound stupid, but you’ll be able to see it in his face. He won’t be able to hide it. Nobody ever can, not really. Lust is cheap and easy. Comfort is even easier. But love isn’t quantifiable. You can’t count it, you can’t stop it. You can choose not to act on it, but you can’t choose not to feel it. And you can’t hide it.”

Judy nodded. That made sense, and it wasn’t a hard request. She already knew Jimmy loved her. He said it often enough, and his actions backed it up. (Mostly.)

“I’ll do it tonight,” she promised, feeling more energized than she had in days, “but first, I need to go see Nick. I need to apologize. And before _that,_ I want to finish tea with you. Is Vivian still trying to set you up with that old geezer from 3A?”

* * *

Nick was out in the courtyard studying, which Judy thought was _unbearably_ sweet. He looked relaxed in his gray ZPA uniform, one leg bent up behind a lop-eared book while the other dangled uselessly to the side, his toes too high to even graze the ground. Because the bench was so oversized, he’d been able to put a pillow against the armrest and make himself a comfortable reading nook. She’d never been that creative, nor had she been particularly interested in making herself comfortable. It was so utterly _Nick,_ though, that it made her smile.

She only got to observe him for a moment before his sensitive nose picked up her scent, probably aided by the light breeze. It was finally really spring, just a few weeks before First Harvest and — incidentally — nearly the end of Nick’s first year at the academy. Maybe if Jimmy didn’t want to go, she’d take Nick instead...or she could take them both! They’d be able to get to know each other, and Nick would see that Jimmy would never hurt her, and Jimmy would see how good a friend Nick was. And they’d both keep her company even if it turned out that her family was as bad as Jimmy made them out to be. Yeah, that was perfect.

As Judy approached quickly, Nick folded the corner of the page he was reading and closed the book, setting it to the side. He sat up and smiled at her, an expression that was a little pained, but she knew she’d hurt him so she wasn’t that surprised. She fixed a smile on her own face and said, “Hey, Nick!”

“Long time no see,” he told her, scooting over so she could climb up. She sat next to him with a _thump._ “I wasn’t sure your text was real.”

“I’m really sorry, Nick. I’ve been in such a weird place, and I haven’t been good to the mammals I love, and-”

“I know, Judy. I’m not blind. I’m just glad you’re here,” he told her. It hurt, but she had that feeling again. Forgiveness, absolution. He ran his paw through her headfur, not as gently as Jimmy but it actually kind of felt good. It felt _real._ Sometimes Jimmy was so gentle with her that everything felt thin, translucent. Sometime in the past few months, she had reverted back to velveteen.

She didn’t want to be thinking these things. It almost felt like betrayal. So she focused on Nick, who really needed to be the focus of her attention anyway.

“How have you been doing? I know you have exams in a couple of weeks.”

He knocked her with his shoulder. “I’m absolutely fabulous, surprising no one. Just you wait. I’m gonna blow everyone out of the water.”

Her smile turned much realer at this. “So you’ve been getting good reports, then?”

“Terrible, actually,” he said, bringing his paw to rest on the other side of her shoulders. She thought it must be a little awkward, considering how long his arms were, but she liked it. Nick felt safe. He’d always felt safe, at least _after_ that long, scary moment at the press conference when she really _had_ worried that he’d gone savage. He squeezed her shoulders a little. “It’s going to be sweet when the middle-of-the-road fox gets top marks.”

“You just can’t stop hustling, can you,” she teased.

“Not even a little bit. You smell like my mother.”

She turned a little in his half-hug to look at him. His smile looked realer, too. “I ought to. We had tea today.”

He sighed, an over-exaggerated thing that did nothing to diminish his happy expression. This was what appreciation looked like, wasn’t it? “I’m kinda worried about your friendship with her. You’re going to take over the world together, and I’ll have to arrest you both.”

“It doesn’t feel like a friendship. She’s...more like a second mother,” Judy told him with a tiny jab to his side. She cocked her head. “You know, you obviously have the same eyes, but you also have the same mouth. Especially when you’re barely smiling.”

“Yeah, the old Mona Lemur smile. My best quality, for sure,” he replied, a huff of laughter following shortly afterward.

“I’m glad you can say that. You told me your ex said your mouth was the least attractive thing about you, remember?”

She felt dumb, suddenly. Why would she bring up bad memories like that?

“Oh, yeah. I wonder how Marian is doing these days,” he mused, either unaware of her embarrassment or protecting her feelings by not acknowledging it. Knowing Nick, it could be either. He gave her a conspiratorial look and added, “I was so into her. Would have eaten my own kidney if she’d asked. Just about broke my heart when she threw the flowers in my face and told me to get lost, because she wasn’t into females.”

“I…have no idea how to respond to that,” Judy told him. “Are you female, Nick?”

“Nah, I’m just not that motivated to use my penis. Sex isn’t something I enjoy doing in my free time, and she wanted more from me than I was able to give.” He gave her a fond smile and a casual shrug. “I’ve met maybe two mammals aside from Marian who do it for me, but I actually enjoy being single. I see you haven’t taken off your sigil.”

“I’m not ashamed of Jimmy,” she said, keeping her voice as even as possible. Nick must have heard something in her tone, though, because he drew back a little, letting go of her shoulder. She took a deep breath and released it because she didn’t want to fight with him. “I think it’s sweet that he wants to claim me as family, actually. He didn’t realize how much backlash I’d get; it has a different meaning where he comes from, and I’m a bunny, so it shouldn’t have been obvious that it was even given to me by a fox. He loves me and he wants the world to know. He helped me become who I am right now; he tells me when I’m getting off-track, he feeds me, he makes sure I’m safe, like emotionally, because my judgment isn’t always the greatest. You could stand to be nicer about something that makes me happy, you know.”

“Who _are_ you,” he asked flatly.

“Excuse me?”

Nick’s upper lip curled. “The Judy Hopps I met a year ago would never allow someone to boss her around and declare ownership. He bound you without your consent-”

“He didn’t bind me, and I would have said yes anyway-”

“But he didn’t give you the _choice,”_ Nick nearly shouted, throwing his paws in the air. “What if you _hadn’t_ wanted to be exclusive? Nobody can read minds, Judy. He couldn’t have known for sure. He just bound you without _asking._ Does it actually _matter_ that you love him? It didn’t matter to him, at least not enough to have a conversation with you before he declared _ownership.”_

“That’s…” She felt as though her heart had suddenly stuttered to a stop and fallen into her heels. “That’s not...Jimmy isn’t…”

Gently, Nick took her paw in both of his. She watched his expression change from anger to something dangerously close to pity. “It’s easy to fall for someone when they tell you what you want to hear. They do nice things for you and give you gifts and make you feel like the most important thing in the world when you’re together, and pretty soon you’re doing things you never thought you’d do and crossing your own boundaries, because who doesn’t want to keep being treasured like that? It’s easy to mistake being possessed for being loved. Trust me, I’ve seen it before.”

She thought of the photo on Jimmy’s phone — photos, now _—_ of the tears in her eyes above her brave smile and the globs of cum streaking her fur, beginning to sink into the contours of her face — of the newest photo, the steely expression that Jimmy said made her look like a goddess. She still hated it when he came on her, but it was so hard to say no to someone who loved her so much, who had sacrificed his pride for her in telling her about his family troubles, who adored her and stood up for her and usually treated her like a queen. Jimmy didn’t lie to her…

...and Nick did, but he wouldn’t make a point like this without reason, right? It was a misunderstanding of intent, it had to be. Jimmy never wanted her to be hurt at all; he’d never hurt her himself.

“Nick, Jimmy loves me, and I love him. It’s that simple. I don’t expect you to understand. In fact, I don’t _care_ if you understand. I was...when we met, I was spiraling, and I didn’t even know it, because it had been so long since I’d felt any other way. I was dangerously low in Bunnyburrow for those three months after I turned in my badge, and then I came back, and sure, we solved the case, but that didn’t make me feel any less guilty, and it didn’t make me _like_ myself again, and nobody let me apologize — nobody yelled at me, nobody took a swing at me, at least not anybody who was important to my life, everybody thought I was some kind of _hero_ when I was just a big dumb coward who got lucky! Even _you_ didn’t...and then he came into my life, and he helped me heal from that. He was nice, and gentle, and he didn’t let me say bad things about myself even as a joke. Whenever anyone made a speciesist comment, his first instinct was to get in their faces, and he made sure I knew it was bunk, even if I was so used to it that I didn’t notice it was speciesist in the first place. He tells me when I’m straying from the path _I chose,_ and he makes me feel like...it’s okay to be me, dumb mistakes and all. I’m a better mammal for loving him. I owe him my _happiness._ Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

And she was an absolute freaking hypocrite, because she didn’t feel like that at all anymore. It was habit to defend him. She wasn’t sure she could stop herself. She didn’t feel like she could be herself, and she didn’t even feel like she _was_ herself, and she wanted Nick to call her on being a fraud — on being stupid — on _lying —_ but he didn’t.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, looking down at their paws. He swallowed heavily. “Yeah, I know _exactly_ what that’s like.”

“So you get it. And anyway, does that sound like the kind of mammal who would try to sneakily convince the world that I’m his property?”

He shrugged, looking unhappy. She was unhappy too. Why couldn’t she just _tell_ him what was going on?

“He’s not,” she assured him. _Hypocrite. Liar._ “I was a little worried about it too at first. I thought it was scary, even. But where his family comes from, it’s not a fidelity sigil, it’s a symbol of commitment. If we get married, he’ll get one that matches.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “If you get _married?_ Carr — Judy, you don’t _want_ to get married. You’ve told me about 18 times in the past year that you don’t want to get married.”

“That’s true,” she acknowledged, “but it’s beside the point. And what’s with calling me Judy? You _never_ call me that.”

“My nicknames for you are...not great,” he said with an awkward grimace. He shifted in his seat. “Carrots was designed to be demeaning, and kind of speciesist. I made up those nicknames with the intent to hurt and annoy you, but I didn’t realize...I don’t want to be that guy anymore. Calling you by your name isn’t a sacrifice. I’m not losing anything by _not_ calling you Carrots or Fluff. I want to be your friend. I want you to want me in your life.”

“Nick, I will _always_ want you in my life,” she told him fiercely, and she leaned in to hug him. He was still skinny, but not bony, much more muscular, and he smelled like fox and academy detergent and she couldn’t understand why he’d doubt her love for him. Was she not paying enough attention to him? Was she being snobbish or hurtful? Should she have just let him think he was right? That was it, wasn’t it? She argued too much, made him feel less valued, and he didn’t need that kind of stress. She squeezed a little harder and said into his firm chest, “I’m so sorry that I haven’t shown that, but it’s true. You’re my best friend. I don’t always agree with you, but I value you, even if I’m the _worst_ at showing it. Please don’t ever think otherwise. And tell me what I’m doing wrong, okay? Whatever it is, I can fix it.”

“Oh, Judy. You’re not doing anything wrong at all,” he said into the fur between her ears, and he hugged her back just as hard. He rocked back and forth, just like Ruth and Jimmy. It was probably a fox thing. She relaxed into him, letting him move as much as he wanted, because it was clear that it was what he needed. And she needed to give him what he needed, because maybe it didn’t come naturally, but that was the kind of mammal she aspired to be. And she couldn’t think of anyone who deserved unconditional love more than Nick.


	7. Falling Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing left to do but move forward.

It didn’t feel like coming home. It felt like stepping into unfamiliar territory, something that required caution and finesse even though she’d practically been living out of Jimmy’s apartment. Most of her things were still at her place, but she had a toothbrush there, and extra pajamas, and lacy panties, and a few outfits that Jimmy liked to see her in. After her afternoon with Mama and Nick, though…

It felt unfamiliar. She didn’t know how to feel about that.

Jimmy, who’d previously been leaning against the counter, rushed to her and began looking her over, his usual routine every time he was worried about her safety. A traitorous part of her brain wondered what he thought he’d find. His nose would be able to tell if there was any blood. Was it just an excuse to touch her? No, that couldn’t be right, he could touch her whenever he wanted. She liked it when he touched her.

“I’m so glad you’re all right, Judith,” he breathed, pulling her close for a gentle hug. (Thin. Translucent. Velveteen.) He pulled away again and put his arms on her shoulders, surveying her. “Where were you?”

“I went to get tea with Mam — with Ruth, and then I went to see Nick at the ZPA.”

“Oh,” said Jimmy, looked like he’d just swallowed a particularly bitter pill. “I didn’t think you were still seeing him.”

She frowned. Why did it feel like she was treading a thin line? “Why wouldn’t I? He’s my best friend.”

“Yes, because your  _ best friend  _ leaves his scent all over you,” he retorted, still quiet, but—

Was  _ that  _ what he was always looking for? Someone else’s  _ scent?  _ Did he really think so little of her? No, that wasn’t true, it  _ wasn’t,  _ she was...she was making something out of nothing, per usual. Jimmy wasn’t like that. 

“He does when we hug,” she said carefully. Softly. She didn’t want to come across as crazy again, and she knew she sounded crazy when she got emotional. Jimmy had never said it, and had in fact told her not to be ashamed of her emotions, but she knew better. He didn’t have to say it. His reactions said enough. “I’m not ashamed of Nick.”

Reverse.

_ Hypocrite. _

She didn’t deserve—

“No, you wouldn’t be, would you? It’s not your fault, really. You can’t smell what I can smell. He wants you, Judith. I know it.”

“You can’t  _ possibly  _ tell that from a scent that’s at least an hour old. I’ve brushed past at least a dozen mammals tonight; the train was  _ packed.  _ Nick loves me as a friend. A best friend, yes,  _ obviously,  _ because we are  _ best friends,”  _ she challenged, surprising herself. But why should it be a surprise? She had never been nonconfrontational, like Jimmy. She had never shied away from standing up for herself, from  _ being  _ herself.

She felt more like herself today than she had in  _ months,  _ and it was because she was arguing with the mammal who loved her. What was wrong with her?

“Or maybe you want him just as badly,” he said. His fingers dug into her arms, only slightly, not hard enough to bruise — not even hard enough to  _ hurt —  _ but the pressure was new, and she shouldn’t have been spooked, but she was anyway. How stupid of her.

“Jimmy, you know that’s not true,” she soothed. She took a step back, not toward his bed exactly, just toward that wall. Not toward the door. They all just happened to be in the same direction. He followed, letting go of her shoulders, looking hurt and wary, and she wanted to hug him, wanted to tell him that everything was going to be okay. He deserved to be protected from everything that hurt, because that was what they  _ did  _ for each other. “I have no interest in Nick, and he has no interest in me. I only have eyes for you, and-” Telling Jimmy Nick was probably asexual and at  _ least  _ demi-romantic wasn’t her place, so she skipped over it. “-He’s pretty clear that he’s happy being single.”

“But you think about him,” he demanded, his gaze heavy. She felt small. He could kill her with those paws that were balled into fists — and where had  _ that  _ come from? What kind of horrible girlfriend was she, to even  _ think  _ like that? He had  _ never  _ given her a reason to even  _ begin  _ to think that way. No, it was her fault. She was the one with secrets.

Guiltily, she admitted, “Sometimes.”

“See? How am I supposed to trust you if you think about other guys-”

“I think about you both,  _ together,”  _ she told him, mortified at her confession but unwilling to just sit there and allow him to have the wrong impression. “I think about him... _ under  _ you...I think about you f-fucking him and...and he’s tied up and having the time of his life, okay? It’s the video you showed me, but it’s you and him instead of porn stars. It’s just fantasy, Jimmy. He’s attractive, sure, but I don’t want him like that. If physical attractiveness was all I cared about, you’d still be my first pick.”

“Right, sure.” He took a step forward. She wanted to lean into him, but her body wouldn’t let her; without her own permission, her feet stepped back, and he looked like she’d slapped him. “Really, Judith?”

“What do you want me to say? I don’t lie to you Jimmy!”

And didn’t that feel awful, because that in itself was a lie. She took off her cuff at work and still hadn’t told him. She didn’t feel good and pretended everything was fine. Maybe they weren’t big lies, maybe they weren’t harmful ones, but she was lying about lying now, and this wasn’t the mammal she wanted to be.

“Maybe you don’t lie to me,” he said sharply, “but you don’t tell the truth, either. Why are you so ashamed of me that you won’t even wear my family’s symbol at work? Why do you have to hide it with your sleeves? Is it so shameful that you make more effort to hide it than your scars now?”

Something in her snapped. She couldn’t help it; she was coming unraveled, and maybe she  _ was  _ crazy, but maybe it wasn’t because she suspected him. She unbuckled the cuff, taking a few more steps back, and threw it at the ground in front of him. He stopped. Looked at the cuff. Looked at her. When he bent down to pick it up, she said, “It’s not my fault that you gave me a fidelity sigil, Jimmy. And it doesn’t matter that Skyeview tradition is different, you know  _ good and goddamn well  _ what it means in Zootopia. There would be social backlash if I wore it. Traditionalist Judges might not take my testimony seriously if I presented myself as  _ dishonest and unfaithful.  _ Kind of like you did, by misleading me with it.”

“You’re crazy,” he said, but this time she wasn’t falling for it.

“Maybe I am. But maybe I’m  _ not.  _ All I know is you sound pretty crazy with these weird accusations about Nick, and I’m tired of it.” She turned toward the door. “I’m going home, Jimmy. I can’t be here right now.”

“No, you don’t get to walk away from me, not now.” He held up the cuff, the X of it gripped firmly in his fist. “You know what this traditionally would be for.”

She rolled her eyes, a laugh in the face of fear, trapped — if she went for the door, would he try to stop her? Would she have to defend herself? “You gonna punish me, Jimmy? Is that it?”

Step forward. Step back.

“I could,” he countered, stepping forward once more. She stepped back, and — he’d backed her into a corner, and she froze as he advanced on her. He seemed so tall, suddenly, as he leaned one paw against the wall just above her head and caressed her cheek with the edge of the cuff. “I’d be within my rights to.”

That was such a ridiculous statement that it snapped her out of...whatever that had been. Panic. God, she’d been  _ panicked,  _ and she was so used to feeling nothing that it had  _ felt  _ like nothing. “N-no you wouldn’t. That’s not anybody’s right.”

“Isn’t it? After all I’ve done for you? I let you tug my fur, I let you have your way all the time. I don’t say a word when you go have tea with  _ Ruth Wilde,  _ I let you keep your apartment; I let you  _ boss me around _ . I treat you like the queen you are. You get everything you want sexually. I let you tire me out emotionally. I  _ take care  _ of you. I don’t have to do  _ any  _ of that, but I do it, because I love you too much to  _ not. _ You’re a bunny, not a fox, so we’re not following traditional courtship rules, but frankly, it’s getting  _ tiresome,  _ Judith. We’re still not living together even though you’ve been wearing my cuff for months. You’ve known what it means for nearly as long. The whole  _ world  _ knows you’re mine. You’re lucky I wouldn’t get off on restricting you...or maybe you’re not so lucky. You wouldn’t be so  _ difficult  _ if I’d taken control of you like you asked me to.”

“How could you say that,” she whispered, feeling her stomach fall to her heels and her head snap and snap. She had  _ never  _ asked him to control her, only to make sure she didn’t hurt herself. She tasted something bitter and she wished she could spit out whatever was making her sick, but it wasn’t real, she was misinterpreting something, it was all in her head — but it wasn’t, really, it was  _ Jimmy.  _ It was the fox she had fallen in love with, the fox she considered her mate, the mammal she valued above almost everyone else. “You told me it’s a symbol of our commitment to each other.”

“It is.”

“You told me that if we got married you’d get a matching one!”

“I would,” he acknowledged, “and at that point you would have the rights to me, just like all the families in Skyeview. I want to spend my life with the most amazing, stubborn, beautiful mammal in the world. Is that not enough commitment for you?”

But there were cracks in the words, and the idea was fragile now. “I told you I didn’t want to get married!”

“That’s not exactly my fault, is it?”

The illusion shattered, and there was no way she could glue the pieces back together, not even if she got down on her knees and searched for big enough shards of forgiveness until she bled out. 

The tears came, and she was too exhausted to even be ashamed of them. She was so  _ dumb.  _ She’d been ignoring these little tells, these things that had been giant red flags to everyone else, because...why? Because he’d never hurt her before? Because he had treated her like royalty? Because he had rescued her from her self-loathing before it had torn her up? “Do you even love me, Jimmy?”

His eyes went wide and he pulled away, placing his paws gently on her shoulders. The skin under her fur crawled, and then he said, “What? Of course I do, I...I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m being a complete dick, I shouldn’t have...I don’t know what came over me. I would  _ never  _ hurt you, Sweetheart, I swear it. I told you, my culture doesn’t even think of these as fidelity sigils, I was just trying to make a point, and I went about it the wrong way, and — I wanted to scare you and that was a shitty thing to do. I’m afraid of losing you, Judith. You make me irrational. I love you so much that it  _ terrifies me.  _ You threatened to leave, and I just...snapped. But I’m  _ so sorry.  _ I didn’t mean it.”

She believed him, because he wasn’t a liar, but the apology was sour anyway. Despite the  _ I’m sorry _ s and the assurances, it was barely even an apology. She was burning on the inside. “You don’t get to blame me for your outburst.”

“You’re right. You’re right, it’s all on me. It’s a reason, not a justification. My insecurities are mine. I’ll own them. And I promise that I will never,  _ ever  _ act like that again.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to sort out her own head. It was such an appealing thought, accepting his apology, trusting him to keep his word, because he’d never broken his word before. But he’d never threatened her before, either. And she still couldn’t put her finger on  _ why  _ it was all wrong. Couples fought, didn’t they? Nick had done the same thing a little over a year prior, at the press conference, threatening her with his teeth and claws just to get a point across, and he hadn’t had any real intent to harm her either. Porcino from the beat sometimes got so angry at the mouthier perps that he had to beat on the punching bag until he could breathe again. What was it Ruth had said over tea three months prior? The most fragile thing in the world was an insecure male’s ego when faced with a self-contained female? And Jimmy had plenty of insecurities, and plenty of valid reasons to have them, so it really was her fault, wasn’t it? She could accept his apology. They could move on like this had never happened. 

An image of Ruth’s face, sad and concerned, stopped her short.  _ Mama  _ would tell her she was being too trusting again. Bonnie would tell her to settle for the good thing she had, Stu would tell her a gentle heart and a loving touch could make any plant grow better in the right environment, but Ruth spoke Judy’s language, and she’d be disappointed in Judy for letting Jimmy get away with making her freeze in fear. “How do I know you’ll keep your promise?”

“If I  _ ever  _ behave that way again, you can take my belt,” he said, voice firm and face pleading, pressing the cuff into her paw and closing her fingers around it, “and you can beat me with it until I beg for mercy, and then hit me a little more to make the message sink in. And I’ll thank you for it. Just... _ please  _ don’t leave me. I couldn’t bear it. I think I’d kill myself.”

_ Don’t you dare,  _ she didn’t say, because it wouldn’t do any good. She already knew her answer. If she didn’t give him the right answer now, she knew she never would, so she wrapped her arms around him and stepped forward, away from the wall. He went with her willingly, stepping backward awkwardly as she herded him toward the couch...and she drew away, because she  _ had to. _

With one paw on the doorknob, she sniffed and ignored the tears on her cheeks when she said, “Goodbye, Jimmy.”

“What? No, don’t go,  _ please,  _ I’ll do anything, you can hit me  _ now,  _ if you want. Please, do it. Hit me. Please don’t leave.”

She shook her head and opened the door anyway. It was  _ so hard,  _ and it was only going to get worse. Bunnies had been known to die of heartbreak, and although it was rare in modern times, she already felt her whole world shaking apart and she hadn’t even left his apartment. “I have to go. You’re not good for me. And if you’re begging me to do harm to you, I’m probably not good for you either.”

His single step carried him close —  _ too close, too close —  _ and he growled, “Do not walk out that door, Judith.”

And...clarity. Sunshine through the clouds.

“My name is  _ Judy,”  _ she spat, and slammed the door in his face.

* * *

She’d meant to go home, but her feet carried her to the now-familiar apartment building where Ruth Wilde lived. She felt disconnected — some part of her was still on fire, burning so intensely she could be  _ sick  _ from it, but none of it reached her head. Her body moved, and she breathed, and she noticed weird things. A spot of graffiti she’d always seen, but never really looked at. The flowers in the planter were orange roses. The door had a scuff on it. Had the walls always looked like they were about to close in on whoever was walking through the hall?

Maybe Mama wasn’t home. It would be just her luck. Luck she probably deserved after going off like that. She could have left differently. She could have stayed and worked it out without going crazy on him. She shouldn’t have left at all. But in her disconnected state, she couldn’t even connect to that. It was a thought, not a feeling. Something she knew she should feel, but couldn’t. 

She knocked at the door and laughed at how hollow the sound was. Just like her. Hollow. Shallow. The door wasn’t translucent, but she was. If Mama answered the door, would she look right through Judy? Would she assume it was a ding-dong ditch? Was that even a thing in Zootopia?

The door opened. Ruth was still in her nice dress from earlier, but she took one look at Judy and seemed to know exactly what happened, because her face went from curious to sad. Judy felt bad for making her look that way, and then she felt stupid for feeling bad, and suddenly all the feelings came back in an overwhelming wave of emotion that she couldn’t hold back.

“M-Mama, I…”

Her eyes filled with tears. Ruth’s arms opened and Judy fell into the hug, angry and betrayed and ashamed. The vixen smelled like sugar and fruit, things she had come to associate with  _ home,  _ and she wished she could just stay wrapped up in someone’s arms until the real world moved on without her. Judy cried into Ruth’s shirt and listened to the low soothing noises until someone peeked out of their door in the hall and said irritably, “Could you go cry somewhere else? There’s a bunny commune literally one block away.”

“Oh, shut up, Barney,” Mama snapped, but she did pull away from Judy. She herded Judy through the door. “Come on in, Judy. Barney’s just grouchy because the ExtenZe didn’t work.”

“Fuck you, Wilde,” Barney sneered.

“You wish, microdick,” Mama retorted, and shut the door behind them. It was such a typical Ruth Wilde thing to say that Judy actually felt better just from hearing it. She couldn’t stop crying, but she felt...grounded. Still not real, but grounded. Mama led Judy to the couch and said, “Tell me what happened.”

“He threatened me,” she sobbed, allowing herself to be handled because Mama immediately enveloped her in a hug. Later, she hoped she’d remember to figure out why that was. She felt fragile, but more than that, she felt  _ sensitive.  _ Every touch of fur felt suffocating; even her  _ clothes  _ felt restrictive, but she couldn’t help but snuggle into Ruth Wilde’s couch in Ruth Wilde’s arms. “He said he didn’t mean it. I believe him. But then he asked me to beat him as punishment and he threatened to kill himself and  _ what if he does,  _ Mama? What if tomorrow I get called to the morgue because he slit his wrists in the bathtub — I have to go back, I can’t believe I came here, I have to make  _ sure-” _

“He’s not going to kill himself,” Mama said. Flat, factual, certain.

“How do you know?”

“Because those types never do. It’s a shell game, Judy, and an inexpert one at that. Not even a shell game — it’s a threat. A shakedown. And even if he does kill himself, it won’t be your fault. Nothing anybody does is your fault, and I say that as a retired con artist who used to be in the business of getting mammals to do things they didn’t know they wanted to do.  _ You can’t make anyone do anything.  _ If he follows through on his threat, it’s because he wants to punish you. Don’t take that on.”

Judy squeezed her eyes closed and wished she could disappear. She felt awful. She wanted this to be a horrible nightmare. She wanted to wake up in Jimmy’s arms and realize the past few months had been a terrible fever dream. She wanted to go back to when everything had been new and shiny, after she’d asked him to make her real but before everything  _ else  _ had become real too. “Why did this have to happen?”

“Because you have a good heart, my girl, and you trust that mammals are going to be the best versions of themselves that they can be. It’s bad for you, but it’s not  _ bad.  _ It’s part of who you are, and that part of you is what helped you save the city and my son. You were always going to get burned, if not by  _ Jimmy-”  _ Mama spat the name like it tasted vile. “-then by someone else. A friend who only wanted to use you, maybe. A sneaky creature who cultivated a friendship purely to try and guilt his way into your pants. Bad things happen to good mammals because bad mammals are harder to take advantage of.”

“I’m not a good mammal,” she said, desperate and sad and confused. And  _ angry,  _ even though she didn’t want to be. The burning was getting louder. 

“It would be easier on everyone if that were true,” Mama told her, “but it’s not. Somehow that boy convinced you otherwise, and I wish there were a hell just so he could burn in it forever. I’m not generally a black-and-white thinker; it’s hard to follow your train of thought. Good and bad. But you are  _ objectively  _ good, and Jimmy’s just one of the darker shades of gray.”

Judy didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. She just quivered like a child in Mama’s arms and thought about everything. How many times had she fantasized about this as a child? About a mother who had time for her? Farmers worked hard, and with an immediate family of 304, there was no way to have individual time without a schedule. Bonnie Hopps provided for and loved her children, but on an individual level, she never knew when they were sad or hurt or lonely. Not unless they came to her, and Judy hadn’t ever done it.

Countless minutes passed, in which Ruth rocked back and forth in fox style and Judy cried herself out. It felt like sludge, like a giant ball of mud being pushed out by clean water, and everything  _ sucked. _

Maybe it was allowed to suck. Maybe it was okay to feel bad every once in a while.

“I’m pretty sure I have a spare toothbrush,” Mama said, and Judy wanted her to stop. She was being too nice. It hurt too much.

Shaking her head, she replied, “No, it’s...I can go home, I’m — I have my own apartment.”

“I know about bunnies,” Mama countered. “I did my research. I know what happens when a bunny loses her mate. Can you handle being alone right now? Can you handle  _ sleeping  _ alone right now?”

She couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t. She didn’t have to rely on herself all the time. She wouldn’t be weak if she let Mama help her. She was hurt. If it had been a broken leg, she wouldn’t have thought twice about seeking help from someone she trusted. Why should a broken heart be any different?

She got as much privacy as she wanted when she brushed her teeth and changed into some pajamas that were far too big for her, but she didn’t want much privacy when her stupid bunny head looked at the bathtub and wondered if it was deep enough to drown in. It was just ancient instinct; she wouldn’t waste away, and she wouldn’t kill herself, because she was more than just her instincts. This would pass. It almost always did in modern times.

But until then, Mama curled around her, sheltering her as she fell asleep, and Judy didn’t feel better, but she did feel safe.

* * *

Work was weird. Judy didn’t lie about her relationship status — she and Jimmy were  _ over,  _ and she was staying with Nick’s mom until she could be safe sleeping on her own — but Rivers wasn’t an idiot. She knew there was something Judy wasn’t saying. There was a part of her that wanted to spill her guts, to tell the whole truth to a  _ police officer  _ who had the power and motivation to  _ do something,  _ but there was another, larger piece of her that still felt ashamed about what had happened. It seemed so obvious in retrospect. He’d controlled what she ate, he’d controlled her wardrobe, he’d slowly but surely tried to come between her and mammals who cared about her — the ones who might point out that something was wrong. 

But he’d couched it in pretty language. Affection, adoration, sublime treatment. She felt wrong about calling it a cage when she had  _ chosen  _ to be there. Equal parts of her wondered how she had gotten so bad that she’d allowed him to cum on her face and control the mundane parts of her life...and why that was wrong in the first place. Hadn’t she felt good? Hadn’t she felt powerful? He hadn’t lied; he’d done everything she had asked for, and in return, she had given him so little. But somehow that seemed hollow, too. Maybe she hadn’t given him enough intercourse, and maybe she hadn’t been as emotionally supportive as she should have, but she’d given him everything she  _ was  _ and let him do as he pleased. 

On day three after she’d left him, he took the choice away from her. He showed up at the station, demanding to talk to her, demanding that she  _ come out,  _ and she’d had to explain to Rivers — and Wolfard, who just happened to be there — the details behind their breakup. It wasn’t real, though; at work, she couldn’t feel it. She could hardly feel anything. That was fine for a job as intense as the one she had.

Her partner and their friend were furious, of course, but what could they do? Nothing. There was no proof. And Judy didn’t want an investigation, an intrusion into her private life, her private shame. She just wanted it to wash over her, to be done and disappear into the ether. 

And after she called her parents that evening and confessed everything, Jimmy began to melt out of her life.

* * *

Two weeks later, Nick was done with his academic exams and his boxing matches. He knew, because she’d texted him, that she and Jimmy were done, but she hadn’t told him any details; now, though, all he had left was the physical portion, and she wouldn’t feel bad about telling him the truth of what had happened. Not only could she say it out loud now without feeling like she was about to  _ scream,  _ but if Nick got angry, he’d only be more determined to beat the crap out of the obstacle courses. 

She felt uncomfortable sitting across from him, sequestered in a little side room meant for conferences. He’d managed to find two chairs fit for fox-sized mammals, and the way the room was set up, the only way they could reasonably see each other was if the chairs set face-to-face. He’d graciously allowed her the chair that kept her back to the wall, which was probably a huge deal for him, but she felt weirdly exposed when she had her back to the door.

Nick was already helping her work it out, nodding in all the right places as she explained, “He knew what to say, all the time. He said...he said all the things I wanted to hear. He said all the things I  _ needed  _ to hear! And I trusted him so much because of that...because he made me feel so good at first, so when he said weird or mean things to me, or about me, I just took it for granted that he was being honest. I ended up feeling  _ worse  _ about myself than I did going in, but I didn’t even see it happening.”

“Yeah, Carr — Judy. It’s called grooming, and I’ve known how to do it since I was a kit. My mom called it “foxing 101,” but it's just good con artistry. It’s not hard to pick out a target, the  _ right  _ kind of mammal, and get them into the right headspace. That’s what they  _ do.” _

She sniffled and frowned at him, confused.  _ Foxing 101? _ Why would he say that about his own species?  _ He  _ wasn’t like that. Ruth wasn’t like that. Even Gideon wasn’t like that. “Foxes aren’t like that!”

“I meant abusers,” he clarified bitterly, looking away, “but let’s face it, all the foxes you’ve been close to have abused you.”

“What?  _ No,”  _ she countered. She couldn’t believe he was saying that. “That’s silly-”

“Your childhood friend scarred you and messed you up a little.” He held up a finger, and then another. “I was a speciesist bully who tore you down to make himself feel better about his own pathetic situation, and I made you think you were in the wrong about everything, even though I was doing the same thing to you, and I was too prideful to apologize for my own bad behavior.” He held up a third finger while Judy tried to find a way to explain that it wasn’t the same. Because it  _ wasn’t.  _ “And the less said about Jimmy, the better. There’s a pattern here.”

“Okay, number one? Gideon was a child, same as me. You can’t expect a child whose brain hasn’t fully developed yet to have the same kind of grasp on action and consequence as an adult does. He had a short temper and problems at home and if he’d been another bunny, or I’d been another fox, we would’ve been on equal footing. The scarring was incidental. Number two? Yeah, you were a jerk. I won’t deny that. But you didn’t pretend you had good intentions, Nick. I knew you didn’t like me, and I knew you were only with me because I was blackmailing you. We were both awful to each other, and I wouldn’t have accepted an apology anyway when I came back from Bunnyburrow. That’s not abuse, that’s just aggressively not getting along, but you’re my  _ best friend  _ now.” She huffed. “Number three? You’re forgetting your mother. Ruth has been wonderful. She’s kept me sane during this separation. She lets me sleep in her bed like a little  _ kit  _ when all my dumb bunny instincts tell me to throw myself off a cliff because my mate’s gone.”

“Oh my God,” he said, looking ill. “You want to  _ kill  _ yourself?”

She rolled her eyes and waved him off. “Only sometimes, and it’s getting easier because he wasn’t my only companion. Half the reason I was able to leave was that I knew you and Mama would be there. Like I said, it’s not  _ me,  _ and I’d never do it, it’s just the ancient inborn instinct of a really dumb bun-”

“Don’t call yourself that. Never call yourself that. You are a lot of things, but you are  _ not  _ dumb.”

She gave him a flat look and asked, “I got myself into that situation, didn’t I?”

“Only insofar as you trusted someone who acted trustworthy,” he countered, reaching out to take her paws and then faltering. He dropped his paws to his thighs, and she felt like a jerk for tensing up. She was still a little sensitive to physical stimuli, but she wasn’t scared. More quietly, he added, “It’s the oldest scam in the world, and it’s not your fault you fell for it,  _ trust  _ me. We actually just went over this in my white collar unit: when someone invests in a Pawnzi scheme, there’s legal recourse, because they’re not at fault for trusting someone who lies to them. What’s the difference?”

“The difference, Nick, is that I was trained for this. I was trained to investigate this stuff. I  _ have  _ investigated this stuff! There are red flags you’re supposed to look for, bad habits — the warning signs were all there, and I ignored them. You flat-out told me, and I ignored you. Because he loved me, and I thought that was enough.”

“After all that, you still think he loved you,” he said blankly.

“I know that he did. And still does. I know that if I knocked on his door, he’d take me back; he’d beg me again to beat him. That’s the hardest part of it all.” She felt the tears in her sinuses, and she didn’t bother to try to hold them back, because she didn’t want to pretend anymore, and Nick wasn’t going to give up on her just because of a few tears. Her voice quavered when she continued, “He didn’t set out to hurt me. There wasn’t any malice in it. He just...lost control. They’re saying at work there’s nothing they can do; he never actually hit me, and nobody’s ever witnessed us being anything other than happy together. Even if he  _ had  _ hit me, the sigil was an admission of consent, culturally, at least in Zootopian canid culture — maybe not legally, but who wants to press charges and risk getting a traditionalist Commissioner? Rivers and Wolfard are furious, of course, but there’s no proof. He never even yelled at me, so all the neighbors could have heard was him begging me not to leave when I had the door open. It doesn’t even feel right, calling it abuse, like Mama keeps saying. He never touched me any way I didn’t want to be touched. He never did anything I didn’t consent to. I don’t know why I  _ don’t  _ just go back…”

“Because you  _ are  _ smart,” he told her. This time, when he reached out, she met him halfway, indulging his tactile needs and grounding herself. Nick had started out awful and proven himself a million times over, even tried to get her out of a bad situation knowing she’d probably get mad at him; if she could trust anyone in the world, it was her  _ best friend.  _ “Take it from a former professional: the hustle isn’t supposed to be violent. You’re not supposed to look coercive. Enticing? Yes, absolutely. In selling a product, you have to make the customer think they wanted it all along. In selling an idea, you have to make the target think it was their idea in the first place. In selling abuse...you have to make the victim think it’s all in their head. But it’s  _ not.” _

“I’m so tired of chasing this around my own brain,” she whispered. She was tired — tired of pretending, tired of being a  _ survivor.  _ She didn’t want that to be part of who she was. She didn’t want to be an  _ abused bunny,  _ a statistic. She didn’t want to worry about someone seeing her and feeling sorry for her if she cried, didn’t want to worry about seeming  _ so  _ strong that it cast doubt on what she went through. She was tired of all the calculation and second-guessing herself. “I want it to stop.”

“Then let us help,” he replied, leaning forward to rest their foreheads together. The pressure helped the headache that had been nagging her for days. “My mom will take care of you. Your family, I’m sure, will support you. And after tomorrow’s exams, I’ll be back for a couple of months. I love you, Judy. You’re my  _ best friend,  _ and that means so much more to me than I can even put into words. I will always be here for you in whatever capacity you want.”

“I want…”

He squeezed her paws. “What do you want?”

With a soft sigh, she told him her deepest, scariest, strongest desire. “I want to be  _ me  _ again. Officer Judy Hopps, Jude the Dude, the bunny who’s going to make the world a better place. I want you to call me Carrots and I want to not feel bitter and angry and I want to just roll my eyes when my parents fret instead of wondering if they have a point. I want to like myself. Oh, God, Nick, I want  _ so badly  _ to just  _ like  _ myself.”

“I can’t make that happen.”

“I know.”

He smiled at her, and she tried to take comfort in it. “I can call you Carrots, though. I’ve missed it. I’ve missed  _ you.  _ So. I hereby re-dub thee Carrots, Protector of Zootopia, Best Friend to Nick Wilde — which, by the way, is the highest honor a mammal can have, so don’t laugh. I can see it in your face,  _ Carrots.” _

“You’re ridiculous,” she told him, and sure enough, she did laugh. It felt good. She never wanted to move from this ridiculous position, ridiculous knees touching, holding Nick’s ridiculous paws and pressing their ridiculous foreheads together. He made her feel safe. “I might not always show it, but I appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

Nick wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t a nice mammal. He wasn’t always respectful, and he could be a little speciesist, and his sense of humor was maybe a teensy bit cruel. He was also trustworthy and brave and empathetic. He wasn’t a nice mammal...but he  _ was  _ a good one, and because he didn’t hide his flaws from her, he was exactly the kind of friend she needed. Judy knew that she’d spin out if she tried to figure out whether or not she  _ deserved  _ his friendship, so she put that word away and just sat there, appreciating the fact that she had his friendship regardless.

She wanted to say it all. She wanted to tell him that she adored him and that he was good and brave and that she’d always protect him as best she could, but the words for that were inadequate, and maybe they didn’t need to be said. Instead, she squeezed his paws and trusted him to be as good as he tried to pretend he wasn’t.


	8. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An end, and a beginning.

Her dress uniform was itchy and uncomfortable, but necessary. She was giving the speech at Nick’s graduation, and there was a certain standard that had to be met. It was worth the discomfort, though. Her best friend had gone through two whole years of grueling training with only a couple of months of downtime between the first and second sessions, and he was now ready to join her on the force. They could finally look out for each other.

But first, she needed to find some flowers.

Ruth was at the market next door, trying to find some obscure snack that Nick liked, but since Judy knew the language of flowers, she was in charge of the bouquet. Calla lilies, yellow roses…

She smelled him before she saw him, so she had time to brace herself. She’d been purposely avoiding Jimmy Brownpaw for almost a year now, but seeing him for the first time...didn’t hurt as badly as she’d thought it would. He was still as handsome as ever; her imagination hadn’t idealized that part of him, at least. He was still well-groomed and elegant, with shiny claws and a neatly pressed shirt.

“Oh,” he said, sounding surprised, although he shouldn’t have been. If she remembered his scent, surely he remembered hers. He smiled awkwardly, a tilt of the mouth that gave Judy a pang of what felt like homesickness. “It’s...uh, it’s nice to see you, Judith.”

“It’s Judy,” she reprimanded gently.

“Right. Judy.”

She frowned and he shrank back — did he think she was going to hit him? — but he didn’t leave, and she sighed, because maybe she did have one more thing to say to him. “I was really mad at you for a long time, Jimmy. I had to work through it.”

“I...still don’t really understand what happened between us,” he admitted. “It seemed like we just had one fight, and it was over. I know what I said was unforgivable. The way I treated you...but I wouldn’t have actually hurt you. You have to know that.”

She nodded. “I do know that. And I’m not mad anymore. I already forgave you, and I still miss you sometimes. No, that’s a lie. I miss you like crazy, almost all the time. But that night was just the tipping point. You hurt me, Jimmy. You didn’t ever have to touch me to hurt me. But you could have, and if I had stayed...if I had just forgiven you and ignored it and apologized for trying to protect myself...you eventually would have. That’s how it always goes.”

“No, I...I know you hate me, and maybe you have a right to, but I’m not like that, Judith — sorry, Judy. I’m not.”

“Nobody is, until it’s too late,” she said. She gave him a sad smile. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad mammal. Mama says that’s my bias talking, but she’s a cynic. I don’t hate you; I could never hate you. I still love you, and I probably always will. But that doesn’t mean we can be together. I can love you and not want you in my life.”

He shifted uncomfortably, and in it, she saw echoes of their first meeting, the awkward little steps, the bashful expression, the silent apology for stepping on her toes. He was still recognizably Jimmy, and she realized that he had never changed. It had all been Jimmy, every loving caress, every guilt trip, every uplifting word, every string of semen in her fur, every sweet little gift, and the threatening behavior that had driven her out. He hadn’t changed, he had only revealed more of himself. So, because she knew him, she knew what was coming. “Can we...maybe go somewhere? Talk about this a little more privately?”

There was hunger in her, a searing desire to go with him. Crawl into his arms and pretend the last year hadn’t happened, hadn’t eaten away at her. Crawl into his bed and make him please her until the stress and dread and loneliness melted away completely. But that wasn’t her head talking, or even her heart; it was conditioning and instinct, just that old self-doubt and the need to be needed by her mate. So she shook her head and ignored the fire in her gut. “I don’t want that. I don’t want  _ you.” _

It was the hardest thing she had ever had to say. He looked like it was the hardest thing he had ever had to hear. “There’s no way we can try to make it work?”

“No way whatsoever,” she confirmed. “But...if you could do me one favor...take care of yourself, okay?”

“That’s...that’s the plan. And you do the same,” he replied, and maybe he sounded sad, but that wasn’t her responsibility anymore. It was never supposed to be her responsibility in the first place. If this ordeal had taught her one thing, it was that one mammal couldn’t heal another; one mammal couldn’t control another’s feelings. That was impossible, and that had been her problem with Jimmy in the first place. She’d wanted so badly to not hurt anymore, and he’d wanted to protect her, and it had become a toxic mess.

“Goodbye, Jimmy,” she said.

“...Yeah. Have a...please have a nice life, Judy.”

She turned her back, intent on finding the freshest calla lilies. As she listened to him turn to leave, she took a deep breath— 

—and let Judith go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. Although this one has a good ending, many of these stories don't. If you or anyone you know is being abused, please seek help, preferably not from the cops and instead from someone who gives a shit. Help is sometimes hard to find, and leaving is fucking scary, but nobody deserves that. Not ever. Protip: you can file a protective order on your own with documents you can download from your state's court website ( find a list of US district courts [here](http://www.uscourts.gov/about-federal-courts/federal-courts-public/court-website-links) ) and they're pretty much always approved, at least in the short term. Ask your friends for help. If you have family worth a damn, ask them for help. There is no shame in asking for help. Please, please, please take care of yourself. And if you see red flags in your friends' relationships, let them know!! It's better to be wrong and have a falling-out than to be right, have said nothing, and find out in the middle of the night that your friend has been killed or hospitalized. Your loved one will probably resist the implications. It's emotionally draining. Support them anyway.


End file.
